Snowline

by Satish Verma

A blank paper invites
for rape.
Snow sinks for a prelude.

The black swan flies away
for the quiet hills,
when sun was drawing out the blood.

Alone, I will write a poem
beneath the tear soaked eyes
and then moon will fall.

As in the valley
of million tulips
I will make a dream kill.

17-Oct-2012

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