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magic

i spun a magic

and kept it in a round box,

the box made of dew.

look closer,

you would see

each curvy bent

is a smile,

the magic of lips,

the tickler of eyes.

when the dew is done,

its imprints would remain

and every round drop

every elliptical trickle

would remind you

of my smile.

that's the actual magic.

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Written by
aditya-bhaskara
Indian
Published
Oct 5, 2012
Lines·Words
16·61
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