Whirling And Whirling
The herb in a desert he saw,
amidst the whirling of sand,
whirling and whirling,
making an upward tunnel it went.
Dying in thirst,
the herb watery but
venomous he knew.
yet, can't chew.
Neela Nath's Other Poems
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The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
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