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by Satish Verma Jul 16, 2022 category : Nature, environment / nature
A rose on your name shines, like a mural painting. You had wanted a deathless dying. Does it happen to everyone? Living on water, still abrasive? When you walked on the nails, was it corrosive, like acid on face? I am visiting the death room to start a vigil, like a hummingbird gone mute. And the lovebirds will show no more the open affections. The moon will heal the poem. Hearth will keep on throwing the crackling blaze.