An Anticlimax
Do you share the bed
with a perceived lover in illicit
borders?
A pink gestation
of a thought? Hands
holding a naked truth?
The winds were harsh, cold
and persuasive. And lake was
sending an obscene invitation.
You were ready to make
a jump, ending the speculation.
I speak alone -
in the arguments with
sooty bust of the sky.
Moon has no other name.
poem by Satish Verma
Added by Poetry Lover
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