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

It was not easy, to rewrite a dream poem

The ledge, jutting out in quivering water.

The fantasy: of moving in a circle,

Becoming musical at the end time,

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―