satishverma

The Enabler

Category: /General/
(769 views)
Like
0
You come to me formless,
to claim your dues―
of whispering poems.

At sharp cliff,
what was your dream―
destiny of taking a long fall?

The rising smoke dissolves
the boundaries, when you
fondle the dark for some pulse.

The final gift arrives
of tears, within reach
of the implosion.

Along the boulevard
a flight of swans―
sails for another lake.

I lift my hand for final salute.

Favorite Favorite  Comment Comment  Share Share

Close

Copy Link and Share



Report an item by sharing it with support.
© individual authors and creators. Create, Share and Profit at etastic.com.

Add a Comment

Enter your comment and submit

© Copyright etastic and individual authors. All Rights Reserved.

Edit Comment

Edit your comment and submit

© Copyright etastic and individual authors. All Rights Reserved.