Unending StoryA Poem by Satish VermaIn the dust from the dust. I will see your
In the dust
from the dust. I will see your face daily, in between the spaces in between the hunger― against the wall, where you were asked to stand erect before... The clock was moving without hands. I will hear only the tick, in dark, like the regular heartbeats. Ultimately the space wins. We start moving apart. The distance increases. Echo becomes dull and then acoustics fail. Only the specks now speak. Each spot was a name was somebody, was a living being. © 2018 Satish Verma |
Advertise Here
Want to advertise here? Get started for as little as $5 StatsAuthor
|