Drop Messenger Poem by Satish Verma
Drop Messenger
You want to commit suicide
in my poemsThe moon has morphed
into a big yellow rose.
Into your round eyes blood
spreads. I write my name on your hand.
Souls won't leave the homes.
Your face swimsover
and over to guide me. Our abode
was on fire at night. Water feeds mushrooms.
Wednesday, November 18, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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5/7/2024 12:18:24 PM # 1.0.0.1119
