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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

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 10/20/2010 6:44:00 AM
such a sad note in this poem. I'm not in that mood today, but I enjoyed your poem. cgh
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Book: Shattered Sighs