What You WereA Poem by Satish VermaCessation had no direct threats. You had stopped thinking.
Cessation had no direct threats.
You had stopped thinking. A shadowy future starts hating you and your financial motives. The September light falls on leaves ready to go, yellow-brown-red. You are still warm, still receptive of the hollyhocks to welcome you. A guiltless flight with singing birds― homing to their mating abodes. You want to arrive without qualms, without fainting. © 2019 Satish Verma |
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