The Irreparable Loss

Diluting the night,
you went for the lady
of moon, stalking the thought
of distance.

A spider climbs
on white thighs, to
arrest the memories of guilt.

Will you help me to
stand erect again after
the fall from the icy peaks?

I was collecting the
yellow roses to spread
on your seeds of primal origin of pain

The pink hollyhock
opens in full glory of morning
after brooding for all night.

The everlasting groping begins
to find, how much
you were dying for me.

Satish Verma