Not Reproaching Poem by Satish Verma
Not Reproaching
Robbed―
of my aloneness, by
an army of ravens―
thoughts. I
meditate and weave
your face―
in muse. My
journey begins on a
mist scent as the moon rises.
What more you
want, than the silence,
before the bell tolls.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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8/2/2025 8:48:30 AM # 1.0.0
