20 january 2020

poetry

Satish Verma
Satish Verma

Naked As Ice

Howling wind!
Why were you gathering the―
dead leaves, sweeping
the desolate white road?
 
A bleak and dismal emptiness
in-between, the
no man's land.
 
Thousand eyes watch the tiny flurries.
The perfect peace,
descends.
 
From moon's navel,
falls the golden bloom.

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