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by Satish Verma Feb 25, 2023 category : Nature, environment / nature
Something was left behind. I was collecting all the dried roses for the prison of eyes. I ask myself? what was that. Something was left behind. A black rose? Near the smoked candles of poems? A tiger lily, still had the blood spots? Why do I forget the precious things? Something was left behind. I wait for the butterfly, to wake, which had breathed last between the tender moments. Why do I want? Something was to be left behind!