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The Indian Glover

The Indian glover
became my Indian lover
He held my hand down Indian paths,
and loved me in his way.

His way was like myriads of birds;
colourful and joyful.
He gave me beautiful gloves
that he had made.

These stretched up my arms
right up to my shoulders:
finest silk shimmering gloves
for Indian holiday.

My lover's turban
was inset with a red-hued jewel.
People said he could be cruel,
but he never was, to me. 


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11/4/2015

Contest  - Beautiful

Sponsor - Silent One

3rd place win
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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