Dec 2016
Centrality suffers.
A poem
cries.
The kingfisher
dives
to find the depth of water.
Ready to strike
beyond― the
horizon, black hole.
With September
blues on―
my hands, I pray.
A poem
cries.
The kingfisher
dives
to find the depth of water.
Ready to strike
beyond― the
horizon, black hole.
With September
blues on―
my hands, I pray.
