Poetry

Perhaps you know,
that you do not know,
the moment of truth is here,
and we are at the cross roads.

Night is without a cloud
and crescent moon is questioning a star.
Ghost of strayed peace
has slided back in dark.
Pure chemistry of love is boiling.

Planting the tender flowers on lips
I find nothing. I think I will go
for a new lover.
Strawberry was your choice,
but I always craved blue berries.
Pulpy red and blue black were teeth apart.

Your eyes are unreadable,
a watery grave of pain.
Something impossible should happen
Poetry is waiting for symbiosis.


Satish Verma