Who Was The Muse Of My Poems Poem by Satish Verma
Who Was The Muse Of My Poems
The time flies wearing
the past. I hold the stone pain to
prevent the future to commit suicide.
Do you love the phenomenal
knocking. Some pure faces open the
eyes to stop the death. I'm ready to go.
Something stops you, before
you ignite the road. No rain will
come to save the poor's corner home.
Saturday, June 24, 2023
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12/19/2025 10:45:50 AM # 1.0.0
