The Solace of Sadness

Pain of the day. I hurt
myself. You pretend. At first I slip.
Then the snowdrop bends me.

I will not break in
the sounds of love. You listen to the
fall of a vagabond moon in water.

The starved leaves whistle.
Will you talk with the wind? You hear
the voices of the body in hollow land?

Vivid expressions and you hit the nail on the head, Satish jee. Very prompt questions.

Padma , Hyderabad