Apr 2020
Still I am looking
at the path, from where you
disappeared.
In void between
living and dead, leaving no
memory to drape.
The dust will recall
the weight of footfalls in
air to bleed stones.
at the path, from where you
disappeared.
In void between
living and dead, leaving no
memory to drape.
The dust will recall
the weight of footfalls in
air to bleed stones.
Written by
Satsih Verma
Please log in to view and add comments on poems
