Intersection Poem by Satish Verma
Intersection
Your feet had
turned stones. The return
of the gale will find―
blood marks.
Embalmed was your
spirit in my roses. The
heart of garden trembles.
A lone pain
flutters in exile. I will
not meet you at moon.
The greek tragedy repeats.
The spark was
caged. I was trying to
find shelter under bottlebrush
in howling rain.
I will not call a stop.
Monday, April 15, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/4/2024 4:40:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
