Hanging Eyes Poem by Satish Verma
Hanging Eyes
No ceremony. I
will walk out from the star―
gazing one day.
The spirit moves
away of body to wear the moon
of a dying sun.
I don't like small birds,
that make loud noises
in hollow trees.
Wednesday, May 15, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/4/2024 1:36:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
