Lockdown The Cure Poem by Satish Verma
Lockdown The Cure
You can fume over
the fall of the unknown for fringe
benefits. My fever was rising in the moon.
The grief enters my
poems quietly. Sun comes and disappears.
Too late to understand, love was an Agni.
When I cannot speak,
the words go on the fire. The truth turns
into ash. Green trees will not give fruits.
Sunday, October 16, 2022
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5/2/2024 9:31:17 AM # 1.0.0.1119
