Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Pleading

Mooneater, I am my poem:
fantasy of words
traveling through fog.

When light sneaks in,
would you like to weep
with me?

Dear death,
I am not ready to
close my chapter.

You are you
but I am not me -
taking a flight in dark.

Disintegrating,
I am collecting the spiderwebs
to catch the moon.
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