Yours Only Poem by Satish Verma
Yours Only
A city prepares to die.
What is the real time now
for blemishing the skin of a man?
In your violet eyes
I will find a moon
for an encounter.
An alien wall comes up
between us.We cannot shed
the veils of clouds.
I hate brother, hate the
ambassadors of death
in the voluptuousness of greed.
Remember,
O my shadow,
dying was a great art.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
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4/25/2024 4:08:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
