Standing At The Shore
A
Anil Kumar Panda
0
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This is the end-expected
My feet is touching the water
Cold and salty
The tides are like dreams
Crashing against the shoreline
And melting away into foams
Each second I lived
Can be counted with the sands
Spread along the beach
The sound is clear
The church bell rings
A tone of death from
The hillock
There is no page left to
Mark with a petal of rose
Frayed cover smells of
Fire in wood and bones
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