Bon Voyage Poem by Satish Verma
Bon Voyage
Absolute yes or no
makes you wish
not to understand philosophy
of semipermeable life.
Sort of, lies pass through,
truth is left behind.
The fingerprints don’t speak
the identity of runaway minutes.
Somewhere you fail miserably,
break the cushions
and lie on thorns
to feel the terror of time.
Where the birds have gone?
Trees have startled the sky.
The staircase is broken.
Bon voyage to blue eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/26/2024 7:12:43 PM # 1.0.0.1119
