BOUQUET

Come in the evening,
on the lake.
Together we will watch
the sunset.

Some unsung lines have been left
on our lips.
Some fractured smiles,
and some unwashed tears,
on the misty cheeks.

Sadness was stuck
in our reddened eyes.
Layer by layer
I want to wipe it.
A song, a reed, I will arrange
in a bouquet
in the name of redundant past
holding the unblemished time.

Come, when it is dark
in the night.
Together we will watch
the moonrise.

Satish Verma