Birthday

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Shot in the face an insider 
tells the story of withdrawl 
of the vision thing. 

Crooked hands lift the 
frozen lake to drimk 
the elixir of death. 

Lonely home inspires 
the dark bird to land 
on the window of mountain walls. 

Should have left this day 
untouched by lips. 
I am counting the bridges. 

Age will tell the bones 
to bend like strings 
for a velvety song.

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