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Returning Your Message
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Satish Verma Don’t let me go.
over the cork, a bottle
fights for the fluids
to flow out.
No apology to
feel you. There was
no death in the night.
A sun lies down beside me.
The flesh was disappearing.
A blue star alights,
to make a landmark
for the climbers.
No regrets
for the crunch of dry leaves
when you walk on the
grave of the witch doctor.
Intrigue
This is interesting to me. Read it a few times. I must say, I often read you. Though I fail to comment... I do read.
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