The Delicate DivesA Poem by Satish VermaYou always speak from the eyes.
You always speak
from the eyes. My sun will send the clouds. No it isn't. You wanted to look away hiding the moons. Extra-virgin. No way. Tree was crying. Branches gone, no olives. This city will start a trade. Selling glass eyes of many shades. © 2020 Satish Verma |
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