to hear her stories.
Her icy hair dances in the darkness
And the shrieky voice is as cute as cuckoo.
Her eyes dwelt upon my ways,
And her lullaby knells in my heart.
I crossed my legs,
reminiscing the bygone days.
Reshma L R✍️For more insights 🧐"mynewblogspotrk.blogspot.com" & Poetry collections : "Unstrung Notes", "Elysian Florets", "Wonder Meal", "Ormakal"
Twenty-seven years are ending here, and a new Word file opens— a blank page waiting quietly for me to scribble my life in any font I choose....
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