The Occult Dreams Poem by Satish Verma
The Occult Dreams
I had kept you,
away from the world, static in
light. But not visible.
Why were we suicidal,
being friend of death? A cauldron
was empty. No one will jump after roses.
Baby you will never
be sick. The streets are full
and white angels are drinking black sun.
Thursday, September 12, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: baby,life,sick
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8/29/2026 9:45:37 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
