Drifting Poem by Satish Verma
Drifting
Killing field
was still red!
What you were
searching in moonlight?
A small poem
cannot provide balm
for troubled mind.
Moon will come
every night to find
his paramour.
Words keep on
changing the sounds.
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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5/5/2024 12:13:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The moon does not care for the painters eye, it will flex with or without poets or killers. Life drifts on, best to float with it. Another thoughtful and meditative work.