The Delicate Dives Poem by Satish Verma

The Delicate Dives



You always speak
from the eyes.
My sun will send the clouds.

No it isn't. You
wanted to look away
hiding the moons.

Extra-virgin. No way.
Tree was crying.
Branches gone, no olives.

This city will start
a trade. Selling
glass eyes of many shades.

Saturday, January 14, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success