What Was Not Said Poem by Satish Verma
What Was Not Said
The cuckoo gives
a final call.
Moon was rising.
Trivialities of the earth
be aside.My dream
is going to burst.
Golden keys in a ring,
hang down from your neck.
I am imprisoned again.
Into some intimate
moments, I will inject some
tears.My time has come.
Where the road
ends, a tall tree will wait
for your coronation.
Monday, August 15, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/25/2024 9:38:25 AM # 1.0.0.1119
