Author Information
Yours Only
Folder:
Satish Verma A city prepares to die.
What is the real time now
for blemishing the skin of a man?
In your violet eyes
I will find a moon
for an encounter.
An alien wall comes up
between us.We cannot shed
the veils of clouds.
I hate brother, hate the
ambassadors of death
in the voluptuousness of greed.
Remember,
O my shadow,
dying was a great art.
