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Oct 2014
Sometimes when I stop
And stare, at the quick and easy.
I question rather repeatedly,
The direction of the wind so breezy.
An entrapment of original ideas,
Which makes no one want to flee.
But then I think that maybe,
The woods are lost, not me.
woods, lost, life, wind, perspective, obeservance
Pankhuri
Written by
Pankhuri
396
   Lior Gavra
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