From The Flames Poem by Satish Verma
From The Flames
Rating: ★4.0
Under your eyes
shadows, my poems curl up.
When do I call you?
From wires, tiny drops
of dew hang perilously.
Sun was going to kiss.
First I take you, then
I will cry for the last time.
Going to meet the gods.
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/2/2024 8:33:12 AM # 1.0.0.1119
