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

Clouds had veiled the waning sun.

O Zero man! you come with a continuous denial,

Questioning yourself― like a Spanish Inquisition.

Life, sex and pain were of mundane existence.

Open the news paper and find out that war has a set sequence

Inexplicable. I run my own life, when

It was the frontal assault of brutal summer.

Standing on black stones― in water death,

Would not move the things. They had moved me.

Will not donate my bloodstained shirt.