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“The dusk twilit leaves me tipsy. Rain lashing down to trashed. Moon sailing through dries up snooze. He in spring holds the breath. And raining petals a warm hug craved for.” — Akshmala Sharma
The dusk twilit leaves me tipsy.
Rain lashing down to trashed.
Moon sailing through dries up snooze.
He in spring holds the breath.
And raining petals a warm hug craved for.