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satsih-vermaPoems
Smitten by your holy tongue, the muse melts in the raging sun. There was a deep gorge between the hills. My face turns blue. Trembling hands will knit splendent wreath for a departing moon.
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May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 8:50 PM UTC
On Naked Paper
Smitten by your holy tongue, the muse melts in the raging sun. There was a deep gorge between the hills. My face turns blue. Trembling hands will knit splendent wreath for a departing moon.
#life
Written by
satsih-verma
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 8:50 PM UTC
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