satishverma

September Woes

Category: /General/
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You pick up a homeless
word and weave
into a poem.

Suddenly it becomes
a dove, fluttering
in my heart.

I love them most,
the flying pods, carrying
unknown seeds.

White and red
I send you my summer
blues today.

The cottony cheeks
I blow the clean tears
away of a crying sky.

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