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Comments about Sahana Mukherjee
The dewy leaves gently blow.
One, two, quite a few perchance;
No multitude around the quay
Nor in the deserted shore.
No anxious quandary...
Only an unknown mystical prophecy.
A sudden stormy tempest breaks free
From the chains of hesitation.
Gushes in with a zealous uproar,
And hits the waves of passion.
Allow no qualm in your wishes...
Lie down in teh shingle beach.
Wet your auburn hair
In the salty waves,
As they ripple swiftly.
Bloating and gloating waves
Grandiloquence of the sea!
Then a sudden gust ...