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BIOGRAPHY
POEMS
Satish Verma
June 5, 1935
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Unlikely
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Seasoned,
a red hibiscus
will ask for a white name―
in winter. Like drinking
night, under the moon
for a torn meniscus.
How far was the skyline?
The snow wants to reach
the ultimate blue.
Water cries for a
beautiful weep for the sun.
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