The Fall

You were starving the words to commit the waves of hunger. What I wanted was a patch of shade under an olive grove. No intrusion. It was a miscarriage of justice. We were searching the – missing links between the years of misunderstandings. We sell our gods and move on unquietly to understand the- lament of middle of the road, when sun was nestling in the clouds. It was Fall. Fall of vanity, fall of integrity. Fall, fall- my pride, my tears. The season was changing. Satish Verma