Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Panorama

The rain washed,
moon. I am going to talk,
to clouds,
for a pause.

*

A serene
quietness.
Rain comes down in rhythmic dance.
No bird will sing now.

*

I will watch,
the bougainvilleas.
Shedding the coloured bracts
on velvety grass.
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