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Satish Verma Let it not be just only once to
make you mad, at the ugly
things existing around.
Talking to your vesal fear
with its spread hood to start bearing
the human pain.
You were counting again―
to meet your god,
in moment of truth at your nadir.
To catch the beauty
of silence in midst of
homeless noises.
Elliptically I hold
you, in my soft sleep
like an oriole, forgetting
its melodious song.
Will I ever hear your
voice once, before I open
the window to the sea?
