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Nov 2019
In the end, it's all but dusty spontaneous chronicle,
Might be it dusted, uncovered, read, and graced with unfeigned Sunny hearted smile, or
Possibly Skipped with faint air of nostalgic frown,
At worst ,glance with compunction bleached eyes, Alas waved away with wrinkled blasΓ© fingers.
Written by
Bilkisu Umar Matazu
143
 
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