…… Distant Shores
Twilight song of a cuckoo
taps the window softly.
Gothic tree and drooping sky
humble my thoughts.
Past was me.
I will know then
why your hills turned away my clouds
by shifting sands.
Was it a colossal guilt of tomorrow?
Which never wanted to become present
and enter my house.
But my memory was sharp
and days were numbered.
I wanted to invite the death discreetly
while praising the life and listening to birds
without dropping the history
from my crooked fingers.
Between yourself and myself
a sea was surreptitiously raging.
The waves were dividing the shores.
Satish Verma's Other Poems
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(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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