Overnight Poem by Satish Verma
Overnight
Rating: ★4.5
Unstitch my memories,
I have come home,
My bag was full of worries.
How will I spread my age?
An old man reading the palms―
cannot find the glasses.
After a mutiny, nothing was
left of a hissing pyramid.
Tell me the shape of tomorrow
to come. In dark I have
to bury my name.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/19/2024 8:12:10 PM # 1.0.0.1119
'Tell me the shape of tomorrow to come. The question faced by every one though no one has found answer. Thanks for sharing.