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Millstone
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Satish Verma They were decapitated
in winter.
To send forth again, fresh,
the green twigs of summer.
Trees of roadside.
My friends, I used to talk
to them in my morning walk.
Once I sat under
a wishing tree for a divine feel.
There were lots of colored threads
tied round the massive trunk.
I wanted to arrive in the neighbourhood
of absurd escapes of a
fake religion.
My footfalls on stairs were becoming
louder, lugging the wasted life.
It was time now.
To understand the deep shadows
of unanswered questions.
Mindview
It must be interesting walking around inside your aesthetic...then make it touch the world - Lady A
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