27 march 2021

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Trinkets

A spotless white moon
was hiding the―
ink spilled on the apron.

*

The pretty nouns
scramble for hope―
if there was any.

*

You could not undo―
what a rose―
did, in broad daylight.

*

A town lives
under a tree, in shade.
The ants come and go.

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