Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Like A Candle In Winds

Incognito,
going to an altar
to offer apology.

I didn't want to
lose you even for once.
Undefined, more than
any relic gold.

I will wear you
not less than any moon.

You may be walking
amidst dandelions saying prayers.
I will come and read―
your trembling lips.

After luminescence,
when I want to walk out,
I will not say goodbye.

Like poppy's fragile
petals, you will chart
out the vision.

In eyes red crimson.
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