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by Satish Verma Jul 29, 2021 category : Nature, environment / nature
The moon at the window tonight, was like a dreamcatcher. I am going to sleep in your charm. Image builders were becoming scarce. In your tempest I will find my dustbath. Amidst the sailing swans, becoming a semi-recluse, you wanted to write poetry. Why don't you go back to your home, O fairy? Did I clip your wings? Not for sale.How far it was? My liberation from the shadow of the lips? Ashened, a fakir wanted to give away his precious jewel to an unknown star.