satishverma
September Woes
Category: /General/
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You pick up a homeless 
word and weave
into a poem.
Suddenly it becomes
a dove, fluttering
in my heart.
I love them most,
the flying pods, carrying
unknown seeds.
White and red
I send you my summer
blues today.
The cottony cheeks
I blow the clean tears
away of a crying sky.
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