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Jul 2013
Through the window of my cubicle
I see the day graying into night
And a world I can’t reach.
I yearn to come out
If only to see the corpses of the day
That passed by me unnoticed
Turning my world old
Unlived, stale and cold!
I see the birds fossilized
The trees bare and wizened
Songs are stifled moans
People as aloof and distant as dead!
I was born in a warm cubicle
And destined for a life in it
To dream of day from the dark
And long for a world I can’t reach!
Pradip Chattopadhyay
772
   ---, Traveler and ---
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