The Other Smile


Death will not measure
the height,
from which we fall.
Not being,
the psyche of primeval fear
finds its conscience –

subverts the softness
of moon-eyed life
with wealth of green blood
in brown bread.

And the white candle
burns at night
to send aurora borealis
in blue irises.

Submitted by Satish Verma.

Category: Life Poems | No comments | Tags:
DownUp 0

Leave a comment