04 October, 2020

Poem's Forecast

Collecting the cinders
to make a fist of conscience.My
questions burn, remain unanswered.

Why the beauty had made
a moon to paste on your forehead?
I would not live without you.

Why do you stitch a panorama
on face? Age defies all blind attacks. 
I can count blue rings under eyes.

Satish Verma

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