18 December, 2023

My Cupped Eyes

In the loneliness, it should never
be. Why do you always love the death
of roses to bury the beautiful past.

No help of any elegy.
It was separated after the fugitive
tornado, as light on the moon.

Water and Agni, I play
with both, like tears and smiles.
My name always tells the truth.

Satish Verma

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