Sage Flower

Satish Verma

O my baby pain― 
this house is on fire. 
My body is going to war. 

A lonely path, in life 
and death― where does it 
lead to― in wilderness of home? 

The mob only loots. 
Lynches and hangs you from 
the lone tree of love. 

I confess, there was 
a chink in my armor, not 
light but water seeps through it. 

You start fearing the 
windows. Not noises, time 
was slipping pout, never to come back.