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Feb 2014
I held her in my gaze on the iron rail of summer noon.

This moment of humid silence wetting her heat burn cheeks

I knew would melt pretty soon.

Like moisture droplets on her lips and her palm’s sweat

This heavenly moment would retreat

With its phantoms of fancy it’s never too late!

Then sobered and in saner head

We would find our place under the banyan’s cool shade.
Pradip Chattopadhyay
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