Mood Swings
Must I give you
the chilled truth of dry winds
till the fire
reaches the backyard?
The half-thumb
was held by the wheels.
Why you were pushing
the hearse
of a dead lie?
Anonymus
was the letter written by moon
to the damp cloud.
The rain drops will never
agree for the trysts.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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