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May 2014
The house yawned at him

as he trudged to the gate
a warm wind rose from his bowel
and tore his heart out

the walls reflected an emptiness
as if they too mourned with him
the one face less
the one soul pouring heart's all kindness
forever gone


paused the son
his eyes grew wet with moisture of rain

the house would never be the same again!
Pradip Chattopadhyay
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