If you don’t love me now,
you will love me tomorrow
…
It’s your turn to love me.
Category: Poetry
Whatever I thought was a verse
इस बरस
इस बरस मौसमे बहार तो कातिल निकला
“मेरी महबूब कंही और मिला कर मुझ से”
(Corona structure & Sistine Chapel ceiling- composited RA)
20 March 2020
Untitled
In the crescent of her eyes
the moon is always full.
The breeze
The breeze steals unsung notes
off aching branches. The tree
agonizes, writing scores.
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