Who Was BlessedA Poem by Satish VermaWho Was Blessed
Do trees quiver
in dark at night, exploring their original skins under the starlight? Why do they talk when we sleep? Living is very cheap and dying was expensive. Would you mind to buy death, letter by letter in understanding the market? The Sunday moon was always beautiful. You stay on terrace to say goodbye before closing the book. There was eternal pain, outside and inside. © 2024 Satish Verma |
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