Ah, the baby clouds
rappled down the moon
squeezing hands-
mourning for grass
when the snow fell all night
burying the graves
of the hunters, who
climbed the rains during
dry spell of the hot sun.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: August 6th, 2016 23:47
- Category: Nature
- Views: 41
Offline)
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