Ruminating Poem by Satish Verma
Ruminating
The fire thoughts rise,
when the stinging stubble burns
on your green face.
It doesn't smell, the
forked tongue. Taste was
sweet on the skin.
A crimson twilight
narrates the glory of sun,
inviting the moon.
Monday, November 19, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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5/4/2024 6:38:28 PM # 1.0.0.1119
