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Green meadows and distant hills
The shepherd sings to the herd
An old folk song, of sparkling rills

The sheep graze, heads bent down
Little bells around their necks
Dance to the tune of the old folk song

The sheep love the water mud pools
Monsoon brings greens and browns
Shelter and food

The shepherd and his herd
From the neighbouring town
Enjoy the picnic, up the hills
On a road journey today
 Aug 2020 Nidhi Jaiswal
Aparna
how stars suspended between the lines faded into gray
Then, I remember just how prosaic life has become
pre-pandemic life seems to be a reverie
✧*。✧*。✧*。
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