Apology

By: Satish Verma

Cluster of clouds were gathering again
I was smelling the wet roses in wind ;
want to feel liberated from the
orchestrated tracks. Like leaves
appreciating the blowing vastness, silence
is filling the space now.

Backyard is full
of whispering tempest. Grey hills
are shy of speaking to terraces
of motionless shades. I love my candles.
My darkness. It conceives
again my crozier, and a
fossilized nude, an abandoned glide
and a rising star. An apology for
wasted years!

SATISH VERMA

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