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Piku

India

Old Photographs

November 21, 2018

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10
Stories fragile,forgotten,
which the molten skies have woven
Fade into the ancient doodles of time.
Stories scattered in the magic human sand blur into memories, 
Of a vagabond dancing beneath the trees
A mellow evening breeze is swallowing me up,
And I am locked in a rusty caravan of trodden old photographs.
A tinkle of smile, a sprinkle of tear,
When the evening's dark with no star to steer,
And fireflies on my hand,
Weave me a dream of a starry garland.
Then I start dancing to  the tunes I've been singing 
Unless I find from what I was running.

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  • November 21, 2018 - 1:02pm (Now Viewing)

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