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Mar 2017
Tired yellows on infant flowers
Are like resignation on new lovers.
Rains drop, when the sky blinks;
Fetching tears on abandoned brinks.
The sweaty smell of gestation,
Signifies the mangoes’ manifestation.
I close my eyes and hear
The inevitable drum roll caving near.
Spring reclines under the parapets of roofs,
Crushed like a migrant under our carriage hoofs.
Summer.
The Harbinger of Life.
Possess these seeds and fertilize
Their voluble dormancy
In the flames of insurgency.
Requiem for a silent spring
Arpita Banerjee
Written by
Arpita Banerjee  New Delhi
(New Delhi)   
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   ---, Eudora, ryn, Zero Nine, --- and 3 others
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