Seema joglekar

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My Itinerary! !


Like an old melody straying down a deserted subway at night,
My itinerary goes around for a spin & falls around me like sawdust,
I start to live on borrowed breathe,
With the moan of a bee & the onion undraped.

All small talk gathers a morass of solemn dignity,
With nobody’s pride slashed or losing an identity,

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