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Satsih Verma
Poems
Jun 2020
Where Do The Sprits Go?
Disappointed.
I look at my hands to
read your destiny.
I fall to kiss the
moon dust. You were
my desire in sleep.
The spirit hovers
like the golden eagle
to rest the talons.
I stop the game.
Some cards had remained
undealt. I win, I lose.
You were not the
angel. You were not the mortal.
Where do I put my relief?
#life
Written by
Satsih Verma
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FairlyCultured
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