Night.
A scantily clad sky,
with unkempt clouds.
Moon was climbing.
Caved in.
I had nothing left
to say, except
soundless poems.
No regrets;
in this climactic
struggle of life. The
pain eases, when
memory fails.
The flesh engages the
spirit. End would wait
till the grass banks.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 3rd, 2017 22:46
- Category: Nature
- Views: 8
Offline)
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