In Mud House - Poem by Satish Verma
Let the opus begin
in evening robes. Your hazel
eyes will speak,
will not shame the knifed trust.
Still dazed, I trip
against the mirror. I have always
spoiled me. Following your stars you move
with feline grace in charity
for truth of unknown.
I felt connected to some
invisible spirit in many shades.
The body smells the soul
of strange thoughts, you could't catch.
Under heavy foliage
sleeps the sun. I go for
your trembling hands.
A grueling travail begins
to find you.
You become a magical
crystal ball. I can see through you.
Twin loaves cry.
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