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Oct 2018
Golden granary of  memories burnt
With all heart's grunt
Makes my  days lose its freshness
Obliging all darkness
Birds of imagination fly through my blood
My eyes shed salty tears red
Sprawling paths of thoughts tred
My ideas sleep under banyan tree
Which appears in my dream free
Shade Spreads in the narrow channel
Self flutters in the fortun's tunnel
Written by
Uma natarajan
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