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divya-ramamoorthy
Whisper
Indian
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Twice as shy
Warm summer breeze caressing the Indian sea / Trolley carts and vendors by every coconut tree / Some for the jolly, some for calm
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Phoenix from the Ashes
Powder of ashes like snowfall in winter / The air and army withered in a splinter / Smoky-grey flaky leaves dead and forgotten
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I am not a color.
Beads of sweat stir up a line / Residents in queue, confined / Narrow long queues assure
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