Like An Old Song Poem by Satish Verma
Like An Old Song
Walking in mental
fog, you become
a swaying tree.
In mistiness
one becomes lonely
like a blackbird.
Hollyhocks
would wait, till
the sun comes out.
December rain
brings the gift―
of sleet on lips.
Sunday, January 15, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/23/2024 2:26:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119
