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Sep 2013
Where are the ghosts, where do they hide?
Why don't I find them on my bedside?
The nights are long, worried sleepless
Still they don't come, don't show their face.
But there were nights, now a faded book
When spooks reigned, at every dark nook
With their creepy touch, whispers in my ears
How I was scared, yet how I loved those fears.
Now in the night's depth, as I toss on bed
No visitors of dark, caress my forehead
I wait for them, with love and no fright
But they aren't there, vanished out of sight.
Pradip Chattopadhyay
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