Backtracking
I was waiting,
the moon dance will start now.
Night was softly purring
near the damp thighs of hills
in happy valley.
Day was wasted
in prowling for silver spoons.
The hushed memories of hot summer
will criss-cross my thoughts,
food of soul, for hungry.
The life finally accepts the defeat
before passions, interned forever.
You keep holding the truth till last breath
and walk away from glory of songs,
reaching nowhere.
I don’t belong to me.
SATISH VERMA
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