Author Information
Not Afraid Of
Folder:
Satish Verma I want to quit
the game of skulls
to die better.
A saddened butterfly
holds up the sun
on its frail wings.
On the trembling limbs
a hummingbird moth
hovers in air, to catch the moon.
Who was shy of
tiger lily for whisking
away your mirror?
I will wait for
you, till the hundred
moons come and go.
Like a decoy will
be used to trap
the tall necked peacock.
