Lapsed Memories

Satish Verma

Can you foresee the
future, the unstable peak, the
ground's underneath tremble?

A lonely moon sits on
the palm― watching the risqué
world go to long sleep.

I am nowhere in
this crazy― maddening race of
musical chairs.

Unsure, I meet the
blue eyes of the lake, ready to
jump into my leaky boat.