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Mar 2020
Cut by a purple shard of glass,
Sprinkled eggnog just on top,
Cheesy yellow, a hint of gold;
May this serenade never stop !
In the clamour of breaking dawn,
Lifelines that just aren't there,
Nature, herself calms the soul
Nature, I breathe her in the air.
Loveless, as you roam about,
Hapless, and in spirits lost.
Won't the wind, sun and trees,
Save from this dire scare ?
Into yourself, as you retreat
Confined, in shapes of square
May you find a saving grace,
A meaning to this ordeal, rare.
Zhavaed Haemaed
Written by
Zhavaed Haemaed  28/M/India
(28/M/India)   
91
 
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