The Other Smile
Death will not measure
the height,
from which we fall.
Not being,
the psyche of primeval fear
finds its conscience –
subverts the softness
of moon-eyed life
with wealth of green blood
in brown bread.
And the white candle
burns at night
to send aurora borealis
in blue irises.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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