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Wandering soul
Poems
Mar 2014
Hold on
Hands pink and soft
Hands scarred with lines
Running down the length of it's fingers
Yes these hands are mine
They are cold with sweat
And shiver with anticipation
For soon yours they met
And they were forever to be
*'Will you give your hand to me?'
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Wandering soul
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Weeping willow
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Pradip Chattopadhyay
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