Changing Landscape

by Satish Verma

Living on shifting sands,
do not go for the rains.
One day you will become
a robber crab.

A cross-dresser you were.
My candle burns to see
your face in dim light. Moon
said, it was not yet dark.

Playing with rustling leaves
of autumn, I went on collecting
the gifts of winter like my
variant moods: yellow, brown and red!

Go and meet my deadpan
silver. It would never be my
sizzling poem. I will pour the
green river in your blue eyes.

21-Mar-2015

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