Charity
Colors of fall
yellow, orange, red and brown
and then unending drop.
I used to laugh on unheard jokes.
The crowd thins
as tall stalwarts
autumn-wished, begin to shed
the pretentions.
The naked spirit roars on the hill.
Age will be no bar,
the war is still on –
stitching the tears.
I can hear the whispers.
It was the shirt of death,
which you want to put on
and play the game for charity.
SATISH VERMA
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
