I wake up somber
And rub my eyes.
I was at a place
Where strange birds
Call my name.
Poem is my station
And a train stops
Every few hours
With ambiguous mails
Delivering junctures.
Inherent junctures
Where I have to choose
The nook I want to go
And fight fierce battles
With Mr. If.
Too short of dreams,
I keep my eyes open
For a glimpse of
Faded motifs
And still life conundrums.
Thus days like leaves
Fall by and dry;
I somber still,
Take my magnifying glasses
And inspect life.
This is like one of the best I’ve read! Good one π
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Thank you for your time and thoughts π
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β€
Love you.
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