Oldie

One day I will meet you on a dirt track and ask about back yard where moon lives. Will you give me a kiss of the clock ? I have forgotten the back years. Autumn now takes care of my assets and I keep on erasing the names. O,harvest moon, don’t go away. I was playing with the black thoughts eating the yellow grass, learning the alphabet of white pain. It was a crystal midmoon, dark animal, who has taken away all the tears. Satish Verma