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by Satish Verma Oct 4, 2019 category : Nature, environment / nature
Unshackled, the pallor moon was lying still, in a white- shroud of clouds, only face visible, staring- down languidly. I have come afar, from the whispering dark, to annul my existence. Your hands tremble, carrying your name. The magic of unsaid- poems, working. Life had been a Medusa. The blues, the reds, the greens, overbearing. Scores will be settled when moon, goes down.