New Year
The dream death;
while birthing a-
poem, weeping
between the lines.
Why do you grieve
for the old year ?
The moon will again-
rise and you can
pick up the black
roses for the baby dawn.
Waging your war till
eternity, you can kiss
the red lips of morning
sun. I welcome you,
new year, in my tattered
clothes and golden heart.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2015
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