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

Widening the scope you want to remain

Gold fringed, the hood strikes. You are bound

Not a dog day― after snapping. In

Collecting the dirt, a speechless drama unfolds.

When saline drowns the lips, my words tremble.

Weep every don. All the translations were fake.

I was not afraid of the clock, ticking, dividing your attention. A guarded

Unshackled, the pallor moon was lying still, in a white―

Art of dying comes, after

It was a free fall. A plot seems to thicken.