Return To Old Song Poem by Satish Verma
Return To Old Song
Like the cuttlefish
you throw the inky juice. I go blind.
Who will read the history of man.
The mockingbird follows
you, like of a military race. The collective
fall invites you for a new word.
Tonight the moon was
very low to repeat the audacity of
walking on singing coals.Who was a thief?
Tuesday, February 28, 2023
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4/29/2024 6:27:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
