Step aside.
Tension of mining gold
barrels through
mating preference.
The shadows under the
eyes were lengthening.
A childhood alley had―
the cul-de-sac.
A face trembles in your
hands when you kiss
the tears of a melting peak.
The body collects the honey.
A sleeping moon drifts
like a fallen virgin,
covering the face in the headscarf
of brazen clouds.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: June 28th, 2018 19:44
- Category: Nature
- Views: 30
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.