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Thousand Moons

By Satish Verma | Category :: Poem

On the rim of a beer glass,
stand, white crystals of salt.
I was watching a pale moon.


The lone tree always
waits for the dipping moon,
to give a parting kiss.


I grieve for the viola.
Why does it extend one―
petal for a landing pad.

By Satish Verma | Dec 6, 2017 | Category > Poem >Nature | Comments | Views 578


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