Satish Verma > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

Privileged of remaining grey in the hands of enemy,

I was a poem reinventing the estranged

Lost on the way to find the wetland

The chase, the speed― the kill. How far you go to―

In my pensive moon I knew you better.

The whipped up temper for a mass destruction―

Not reading your eyes today, walking on

The virgin moon and young lover

I cannot hear you in my absence―

Time was short and I was in hurry.