Sun breaks
on green lake―
into myriad of white birds,
fluttering their wings.
In wet grass
you sink, inviting the black clouds,
to hear the echoes.
You follow the sunset
in a glass of wine,
to become complete again.
Satish Verma
on green lake―
into myriad of white birds,
fluttering their wings.
In wet grass
you sink, inviting the black clouds,
to hear the echoes.
You follow the sunset
in a glass of wine,
to become complete again.
Satish Verma
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