Unlike Anybody

by Satish Verma   Jul 15, 2022


In your painting the
silence of death was very loud.
I will call a poem.

Hold it down, your horse
power. Floodgates will open to
let out ugly ducklings.

In moonlight? I may
sit on the sand dune to listen,
the silent, inner voice.

Lines on your forehead
are getting deeper. May I
call the nightingale?

0


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments