Autumn Comes Again Poem by Satish Verma
Autumn Comes Again
If no poem is written,
Will there be anybody to cry? This
is the secret of my happiness.
From hunter to hunted,
a squirrel runs fast, not to look back.
The margin between rise and fall is very little.
The salute goes very far
but the hatred spreads all around.
The earth moves round and round to repeat.
Wednesday, June 5, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: Life
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7/26/2024 9:02:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
