A Death's Kiss

Satish Verma

Sometimes I do not 
want to be talked about. 
Like the setting sun. 

The earthworm was busy 
in turning the soil, 
printing the seed's path. 

I had removed, from 
the house, all the clocks. 
I wanted the time, to stand still. 

My moment has not come. 
In aloneness I will 
find you in my shut eyes. 

The dark night swims 
once again, on the sea 
to reach the boat. 

You lay down your head on 
the oars and go to long sleep.