This September Day
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
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On this first day of September
as I look up at the rainwashed sky
with cheerily flying grey white storks
I grow fonder of belonging.
This is the place I call mine
where in the autumnal shine
open all doors
and the wind whispers
All is yours
yours
this is your place
forever and no less
all of today
and tomorrow
for you made
yours in essence.
This September day
insignificant becomes transience!
Bu şiiri puanla
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