Coming Back To Alma Mater

A Poem by Satish Verma

Coming Back To Alma Mater

Your voice has dimmed.
I cannot catch your
beautiful profile.

Wanted to see you,
where you were not present.

O god! who was running
this weird world?

Prepare for a
heat stroke in moonlight.

Naked as a blank paper.
Can you print
the end of unending?

Do not want to call
seers. I will search myself
to know the meaning of
dying gracefully.

Were you ready to become
a silhouette?