The MoonA Poem by Satish VermaLike a mole, she was coming up, tunneling
Like a mole, she was
coming up, tunneling with strong paws. Indignant, of being called by the name. You need darkness, to show your brilliance. The language of fear, at hair distance where the horizon ends. The reluctant lover will not speak the mind, to act alone was impossible. © 2018 Satish Verma |
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