Let The Sun Come LateA Poem by Satish VermaLet The Sun Come Late
If you touch
slightly drunk moon, at the sill of window, you will alter the moon of November. I wait for the earthquake to begin. The carpenter had promised to deliver the rocker tonight. I will make friends with dark room. Your hands start shaking holding a glass― half-full. Time to shut the doors. © 2021 Satish Verma |
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