satishverma

This Happened

Category: /General/
(66 views)
Like
0
Say something
on this crucial moment,
standing near the funeral home.
My gods were dead.

Last night I had
left the bed on the call of―
mountains― where I had to
climb back to my final abode.

Any poem in September
was worthy of the rewrite
in rainy day of mourning.

One by one the―
fruits fall. You unwrap
the kernels to bring out
the shiny seeds. One day they will
become the tallest trees.

Friends and foes.
I rise and
become a pagoda.

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.