Drooping Lids

Satish Verma

Like it was pain of sea. 
The waves are not rising. 

You remember the depth 
of eyes, of heart, 
when you cannot read the 
face of shadows. 

So much soundless crying. 
The birds have gone 
to distant shores 
for water. 

Manytimes I had given 
a call. Immaculate exit. 
I will not carry any stigmas. 
Want to travel light― 

to meet my tormentor.

Stephen's picture

Excellent write.

I really like this poem.  Stephen