12 October, 2017

Dreams

Like the furled leaf―
with teardrop earrings, why you
will play with the winds?

The temple vestige
will invoke a forgotten god.
The dove circles in sky.

The history repeats
in desert of uploaded censors.
I become a narcissus.

The tremors return,
when I start drinking moon, from―
your glittering eyes.

Satish Verma

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