Word Poem by Procyon Mukherjee
Word
The warmth will pass
And the cranes will leave
The wading moment will miss
Some friendly vows, whatever
The sun will touch the shores
In search of a palette
To the wind and phosphorus
The fateful moonlight will whisper
Like the knock at the door
When there will still be time
For one more resolute order
I will say ‘word', instead
Tuesday, October 23, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: journey
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5/8/2024 9:00:47 PM # 1.0.0.1119
