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?
Comments about Standing Still by Satish Verma
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.