Collapsing Lights Poem by Satish Verma
Collapsing Lights
There was no ending
of questions.
I grope, I miss.
Memory plays
tricks. I have come
afar in shrinking heights.
A face jumps
in mirror.
Cannot recognize me.
Aging eyes.
Moon. Fallen leaves,
wrinkled yellow, harsh winter.
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/19/2024 12:26:23 PM # 1.0.0.1119
