Point End Poem by Satish Verma
Point End
Believing in my own myths,
just to remember your face, I am
sketching you with the knife on my palm.
Cremation brings some memories
of pangs. You collect theashes of the temple.
I cannot see you in light.
When the moon forgets to take
an orbit of earth, it was dead time.
An orange-blood freak breaks the rules.
Monday, November 2, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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4/27/2024 5:15:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Lovely. Your poems are deep. Great stuff