Behind The Brick Walls

Satish Verma

Winter is round the corner. 
A single dew drop― 
cedes a concession to tall trees. 
Watchers of virginity 
will stay to freeze the fidelity. 
Eyes will not let fall 
the blood tears. 

You were not reading 
your mind, skipping your mantra 
of departure, behind the 
curtain. The winter takes revenge. 
Not a single leaf will 
follow you, when the blaze 
rages in the eyes of moon. 

Listen my love. Story does 
not end here. Deep within is purple 
band. Win or lose, you 
will walk on the stings to mutate 
the pain of amputation. And 
I will paint a fallen 
bo tree unfinding a Buddha.