Aftertaste Poem by Satish Verma
Aftertaste
That targeted sleep will not come
at once
in the tamed night.
A shifted pain
lifts the irretrievable word
shamed at edge.
The godwings
weave the rhyme of flight
for the wedding of death.
You are born again
in sleep
for another journey.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
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5/12/2024 12:55:08 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Very interesting write. Fabulous in every respect.