Trinkets

Trinkets

A Poem by Satish Verma
"

A spotless white moon was hiding the―

"
A spotless white moon 
was hiding the― 
ink spilled on the apron. 



The pretty nouns 
scramble for hope― 
if there was any. 



You could not undo― 
what a rose― 
did, in broad daylight. 



A town lives 
under a tree, in shade. 
The ants come and go.

© 2019 Satish Verma


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Added on April 21, 2019
Last Updated on April 21, 2019
Tags: spotless