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By Satish Verma | Category :: Poem

A fugitive moon
appeared, after the blaze of the sun,
in a frozen standoff,

My room was dappled
with pale moonbeams shadows,
nestled on the―
blue walls.

There was a constant drumbeat
coming nearer. He wanted
to quit. You cannot change
the legacy of dark rooms.

A manhunt must start
for the thief who stole away
all the voices of
a departed soul.

By Satish Verma | Nov 16, 2017 | Category > Poem >Life | Comments | Views 162


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