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About This Poem
An Indian Song
Where are your pale hands?
Who lies under your smart spell?
Oh, where are you now?...
Your soft gentle touch
The hot blood rushed through my veins...
Until you waved me farewell.
Pale hands, pink tipped as
Lotus that float on water
Where we used to live and love.
I would rather wish
To feel you around my throat
Crushing me, than wave farewell.
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