Echos In September Poem by Satish Verma
Echos In September
Under a sickle moon,
the effect was colossal.
The mute words
were floating like vespae.
There was no―
promised nest of paper.
You cannot land
without ink.
The grey beard starts
weaving a web of
lies. Larvae will―
feed on blessed water.
Very warm, very hollow.
The globe turns. You stand
on the surface,
cannot fathom out the human mind.
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/25/2024 10:51:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
