What Hospice Poem by Satish Verma
What Hospice
Becoming unsteady
at points of darkness.
Tinged with blue
I am ready for the unspoken departure.
How to reach out―
for a situation, which was not?
You sleep on the floor
to hear the earth’s agony.
A helix― surrounds the
imperfect creation of unsavory thoughts.
Abusive was the creator,
The evil had a beauty in destruction.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/25/2024 3:00:07 AM # 1.0.0.1119
