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Mar 29
How the night turns cold
as I sit under the stars
The grass grows moist
around the plastic mat
Droplets of dew appear
on the walls of the tent
As I tune in to the nocturnal
song of the crickets

The fire dies, the fire dies outside.

-X-
chitragupta
Written by
chitragupta  24/M/India
(24/M/India)   
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