YOUR SPACE
Poetry
The Lilacs were Crying
You went mad, going
near the sun. I am nobody to behead
the moon flaunting my agony.
Who was the rounder
in the rose garden? Lying to yourself you
collect all the truths to burn on the street.
The blasted needles do
not work. Light sleeps in the holes of
my heart. What is white and black?
A powerful poem, indeed.
Padma
, Hyderabad
Author
Satish Verma
kantasaiths@gmail.com, Ajmer
Sep 01, 2022