YOUR SPACE
Poetry
Half - Promises
This was a body blow
when you said, I had a right to go
insane. The gold-diggers were coming.
Life has become a torn,
dirty one rupee banknote. Useless.
You cannot buy water. Memory slips.
Small things were heavy.
You are half-buried in the wall. The
religion breaks. The dead moon looks black.
The old memory which is useless has to be slipped, Sir! I loved your comparison of this with a one rupee note. Lovely.
Padma,
Hyderabad,
Sep 05, 2021
Author
Satish Verma
kantasatish@gmail.com, Ajmer
Sep 05, 2021