Treasure Island

Sanjeev Kumar

(Jamshedpur, India)

The Parched Lips


The cools of the water body,
That victors around the,
Land that unearthed us,
Exact is the origin to withdraw,
The massively grown horns,
The wing of which grows to the west,
And the north reels under the heat,
As the parched lips of a divided love.

Submitted: Thursday, June 27, 2013
Edited: Friday, June 28, 2013

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