Satish Verma

Again I scare myself 
of the very thing. 
Moon was landing on lake 
for inward probe. 

One presaged silence, 
speaks, of the veracity of lovers 
to grass, where no dropp drives a sun, 
the red bricks build a shade. 

Ragweed in a daisy field: 
Ambrosia, I will not taste you 
till the rainbow sits 
in the meadow. 

Round eyes 
keep the dawn hidden / 
under the lashes, sleep my saint 
for a while, door was waiting for a knock. 

allets's picture

"...door was waiting for a knock..."

An anticipation image, expectation, but too, emoted relationship between door concepts and door purposes. Nice  ~ allets ~