Howling
Before I leave
I will give you my gift
to perceive the human anguish.
Time had passed like a snake
noiselessly, skipping the years
I grieved.
The solace of harvesting the dreams
was thin.
A terrible shadow of a futile
creation.
Hopes always lied
hollowed by anesthesia of truth.
A surrogate womb trims
the love.
My garden was always green.
Howling was generating the heat.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
