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Feb 2013
Rustling wheatfields.
Together we walk tall and strong
Into the leaping wind,
Our songs meeting and parting.
We find a blackbird's nest.

Your saffron hair
Braided. My swallow soul
Spreads its wings and tries to fly,
Our songs swooping and soaring.
We build a bridge for the sky between us.
This is a work in progress!
India
Written by
India
864
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