YOUR SPACE
Poetry
A Game Within A Game
What a folly. You want
to live in the womb again. There was
one soul and two bodies.
Words tend to die in the large
grind. Only dried tears were left on the
rocks. A name was erased slowly.
Oh god out of the ash comes
out the sacred necklace. All night
I was remembering the name of the fabric.???????
Words tend to die in the large
grind. Only dried tears were left on the
rocks. A name was erased slowly.
Memories and men are forgettable. Even identity will be erased as time passes by. Well said.
Padma,
Hyderabad,
Oct 12, 2021
Author
Satish Verma
kantasatish@gmail.com, Ajmer
Oct 12, 2021