A Squall Roars Poem by Satish Verma
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.
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/18/2024 12:22:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
