Witnessing The Downforce Poem by Satish Verma

Undying you speak tall.
I will resume to watch
the soul outside yourself.
And I will receive the body
of dried river.

Observing your shriveled
hands, I dig again the―
bed of stones. Glass eyes
appear beautiful in dying sun.
There were no spaces left
between the clouds.

I had always admired
your stoic glance, repeating
the verdict word by word.
The persona stepping down, pure
as snow. There was no rain.

A dewdrop reflects
the sky, and the train was
ready to leave for the last stop.
Then the journey will start
for blue darkness of naked swans.