Perfect Imperfect

A Poem by Satish Verma

Perfect Imperfect

Flowers―
They follow you, whenever
you sleep in dark.

The bluebirds
will wait till you open
your diary showing the exotic surrender.

I am collecting
dewdrops to wash your face
with sacred hands.

Don't fly again
over the seas, when sun
settles down on waves.

Whole body
shivers, before spilling
elixir to save you.