The Sunrise Poem by Satish Verma
The Sunrise
Centrality suffers.
A poem
cries.
The kingfisher
dives
to find the depth of water.
Ready to strike
beyond― the
horizon, black hole.
With September
blues on―
my hands, I pray.
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/26/2024 5:09:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Blue on my hands, I pray, good one.