One Simple Day

For honour killing
twilight adulates an abstract faith.
Tainted?

Now that mouth was shut
and butterfly was pinned,
will you grow the marigolds?

The empty book was not breathing
in a crowd of words.
The bitter meaning had flown away.

The mountain will cry now
in the absence of birds.
Trees were shedding their leaves.

Satish Verma

poem by Satish Verma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!