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Satish Verma Blue planet
remains sad. Nowadays
moon rises late.
A perpetual messenger,
grey sky, writes an
accidental poem.
I read the saddened
moon's face to condole
the river, for the loss
of its unique lover.
Let me watch the
return of the assassin
after ejecting the venom.
I will ride over
my demons now. Nothing
was left to remember.
