Lips Of Moon Were Hot Poem by Satish Verma

Eggs went freezing in the sap.
Lips of moon were hot.

In the flare up, the
rebel had cast doubt
on cartridge.

Missiles were unique
but, hands trembled -
concept of sky was a lie.

Saturn and moon were coming closer.
Two way mirror of sun
was watching.

The fallen leaves on grass
refuse to be blown away.
They were waiting for the fruits.

Once in a blue lake
you had cheated the boat,
you may not be lucky this time.