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Gift Of Love
(5-6-1935 / )

Gift Of Love

Poem By Satish Verma

Between the blue eyes,
wind smeared a hot kiss
on forehead of moon.
There were no half-brothers to watch.

Swarms of thoughts descended
in zero hour of night.
Sadness was beyond threshold
a crucial insult to the arrival of time.

Now I was not going anywhere
I was afraid of myself.
The centre was disappearing,
in the statements of truth.

Pleas are falling apart in
global freezing, of collective brain.
I start sifting through the leaves
a gift of love, my fruit.

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