In NovemberA Poem by Satish VermaIn November
It was a subtle shock.
I will meet you before the sun sets. Smiles have come up for sale. The failed aphorism. You were always afraid of an anvil. Hot iron was not red. You cannot multiply. There was no trauma. I will ask for my blue stars. The hooded threat was evident. You were not ready to face the stroke. With bare hands I will dig out my key. Your kindness was enough to open the lock. Life brings out the intense eyes of cobra, ready to charge. © 2021 Satish Verma |
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