28 january 2019

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Escaping

You walked with me 
when it was pitch-dark. 
How do I find you in light? 
 

 
These were the last roses, 
for you. Henceforth 
no water will flow from the eyes. 
 

 
Only your face will swim 
on the nippy moon; 
burning skylark.

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