Satish Verma


MOOD SWINGS


Must I give you
the chilled truth of dry winds
till the fire
reaches the backyard?

The half-thumb
was held by the wheels.
Why you were pushing
the hearse
of a dead lie?

Anonymus
was the letter written by moon
to the damp cloud.
The rain drops will never
agree for the trysts.


Satish Verma



https://truml.com


drukuj