Satish Verma

Silver Star - 4,070 Points (5-6-1935)

Standing Still - Poem by Satish Verma

The full moon was
rising. November nght.
I throw away my walking stick.


A shiver runs
through my thoughts.
I had lost you in the thick fog.


The large fig tree.
Had not tied the black thread
round the big trunk?

Topic(s) of this poem: poem

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, March 16, 2014

Poem Edited: Tuesday, March 18, 2014

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