22 November, 2018

A Squall Roars

I don't want to take
my words bad. Where do I keep
them in burning house?

*

It simmers, the sandy path
to bury you alive in hot truths.
No end of beginning.

*

Who does fall, which
has no height? Moonlight spreads
on hot lava of tears.

Satish Verma

No comments: