Ethnicity Poem by Satish Verma
Ethnicity
What was that in your
eyes, which still haunts me in
evening of life.
You will not say, I
will not know where the story of
wailing song bird ends.
The first dark cloud of
Monsoon, becomes messenger―
of the young drowned moon.
Let's go and collect
the gifts of parting kisses.
Deliverance stops.
Friday, April 21, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/4/2024 7:59:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
