What You Were Poem by Satish Verma
What You Were
Cessation had no direct threats.
You had stopped thinking.
A shadowy future starts hating
you and your financial motives.
The September light falls on leaves
ready to go, yellow-brown-red.
You are still warm, still receptive
of the hollyhocks to welcome you.
A guiltless flight with singing birds―
homing to their mating abodes.
You want to arrive
without qualms, without fainting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/24/2024 4:13:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
