subject: TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING [print this page]

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TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING, TEASING

Tonight

when I come back

clad in wounded memories,

one seed deep

the pod would lie in the forest of hands,

I will wake you up in between

the kisses of moon.

The hawthorn lamps

let me light the last unlit

of empty night, for a farewell

to a black rose, who had collected

the unpraised thorns.

The fugitive wind shuts the smart tears.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

TEASING

Tonight

when I come back

clad in wounded memories,

one seed deep

the pod would lie in the forest of hands,

I will wake you up in between

the kisses of moon.

The hawthorn lamps

let me light the last unlit

of empty night, for a farewell

to a black rose, who had collected

the unpraised thorns.

The fugitive wind shuts the smart tears.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

TEASING

Tonight

when I come back

clad in wounded memories,

one seed deep

the pod would lie in the forest of hands,

I will wake you up in between

the kisses of moon.

The hawthorn lamps

let me light the last unlit

of empty night, for a farewell

to a black rose, who had collected

the unpraised thorns.

The fugitive wind shuts the smart tears.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

TEASING

Tonight

when I come back

clad in wounded memories,

one seed deep

the pod would lie in the forest of hands,

I will wake you up in between

the kisses of moon.

The hawthorn lamps

let me light the last unlit

of empty night, for a farewell

to a black rose, who had collected

the unpraised thorns.

The fugitive wind shuts the smart tears.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

TEASING

Tonight

when I come back

clad in wounded memories,

one seed deep

the pod would lie in the forest of hands,

I will wake you up in between

the kisses of moon.

The hawthorn lamps

let me light the last unlit

of empty night, for a farewell

to a black rose, who had collected

the unpraised thorns.

The fugitive wind shuts the smart tears.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

TEASING

Tonight

when I come back

clad in wounded memories,

one seed deep

the pod would lie in the forest of hands,

I will wake you up in between

the kisses of moon.

The hawthorn lamps

let me light the last unlit

of empty night, for a farewell

to a black rose, who had collected

the unpraised thorns.

The fugitive wind shuts the smart tears.

Satish Verma

---------------------------

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