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

You will remember― what I would not― the

Night blinks. Light sits under the door.

Trembling… the burning coal has gone to sleep,

Be what you are. As night falls,

The weight of the ideology flattens your upheaved chest.

My bronzed speech is available, accepting the defeat of daffodils.

When silence stays alone in the hollow of the eyes,

Arithmetic becomes poetry, when you start counting the stars in Milky Way.

Salt-of-the lips. You never know, how it hurts

You to whom, I am lost, the remaining pain