Encored, I was ready
to get the gift of stones.
Light dims at the door.
Will stand, thinking. To
look back for the lost baggage.
Will see you again?
There were smudges
on the floor where the candle melts
making hole in palm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Satish, such an interesting write...10+++