Poem Poem by Satish Verma

Poem



Not knowing―
was a bliss, writing
a poem.

Words fall―
Like small birds,
flying.

I pick up
the sorrow, of the
blue sky
inaudible.

Satish Verma
Wednesday, June 8, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
poem poems sorrow birds
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Poems By Satish Verma
A Sunny Wait...
A Broken Chain
*depression
* The Dead Tiger
Deadbeat
See All Poems by Satish Verma
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