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Jul 2013
A crumpled layer on the evening tea
Says of a fate long awaited
We find ourselves alone you and me
Without knowing when the daylights fade!
The smell of seasons is still around
The mystic brushes in the sky
The glorious world its beauties abound
We never know when the years pass by!
Still a little place is there warm and bright
That throbs with the colors of night
Without the strength of senses and sights
It pulsates beyond fading daylights!
Pradip Chattopadhyay
283
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