Satish Verma > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

The wind was black and I to make an eye contact

A cherry legacy and the orange pick.

The pungent smoke. Someone was burning

Becoming scattered, the winged visitors

Crossing the divine, I ask the marigolds

Blending with the light, as ancients did―

When, the scream ends, you start

After carbon dating you will find―

Invasion was thin like a feather's fall

Unlocking, the silver knife.