Meetings of the two, floating clouds filled with beautiful hues,
An inexpressible fear of bursting
What if someone said those three little words before I drew,
To the perennial world painted as skies in her favourite blues?
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Reading about the Oak trees, mountains, flowing essence of waterfalls, the scent of wet ferns, and the heart shaped leaves of Peepul.
Took my breath away.
And when I witnessed,
I was deeply inspired.
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Flowers all over the blue sky
Blooming in the fields of misty clouds
Painted by the hues of all you's and eyes full of stars.
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So here, our moon lights up in the night sky,
So here, our dreams arise in our beholding eyes,
And ears are willing to hear tales of our years,
Where we dreamt and lived and loved our dears.
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A refreshing winter evening,
With the sunset, on its crest.
The church with its evening prayers.
Relatively, the mass gathering.
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It was a cool winter breeze,
Snows were falling down to freeze.
A gravely concern of mine, 'what to call, whom to call.'
Ended up with my heart
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The colour of the sunbathing hills are living through ages before,
The ride from boughs to the sky is completed by little Siberian wings in rows.
Their tails and feathers embracing the breezes of wintry days
India, they named home
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Railway tracks are calling for bare feets to start their walks;
Wheels of innumerable trains wishing to continue their pending talks,
Stones framed in rectangles are keeping dewy grasses safe beneath,
Oh, how it amazes me to see them protecting their little beings!
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A heart is living through nights of falling stars,
A pair of eyes passing sleepless nights in golden hours;
Being awaken till dawn
Endorsed in coloring landscapes in the heart of her town.
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Verses of bugs are whispering in the dark
Silence of woods are cherishing tidal winds and fragrance of blue seas, as means of worshiping arts.
The tiny bud is praying for palms to heal,
Where farmers were working still.
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