APOLOGY

Cluster of clouds were gathering again

I was smelling the wet roses in wind ;

want to feel liberated from the

orchestrated tracks. Like leaves

appreciating the blowing vastness, silence

is filling the space now. Backyard is full

of whispering tempest. Grey hills

are shy of speaking to terraces

of motionless shades. I love my candles.

My darkness. It conceives

again my crozier, and a

fossilized nude, an abandoned glide

and a rising star. An apology for

wasted years!

 

  

SATISH VERMA