Sawdust Trail

Leave me alone
amidst the daisies.
I have come to talk
to a quivering dandelion.

I must see. I must
count the teeth of the tiger
who had stopped killing
the bucks, but-

there was death in the grass.

Cannot believe in
shadows moving behind the
moon. The space was
shrinking, and tongues were
very sharp, but -

there was death in the grass.

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