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by Satish Verma Sep 28, 2020 category : Nature, environment / nature
You to whom, I am lost, the remaining pain will fetch the grace- poise and dignity of ending. The future lies in- the halo of the hill, where the blood was spilled last night. A black spot on the sun was enlarging. I spell your name in a bird song, that croons tirelessly in timeless dawn. The moon drenched lake wails for the boat not to come.