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Prachi Singh Poem
Eyes rolling out with tears
Cold air whispering in their ears
Who are they?
Is it us who call them stray?
No money, No food
They commit suicide
They too had a childhood
Which they spent listening that they were roadside
Aren't they us? Aren't they?
Yes! They have complained
Yes! We've heard them
What did we do?
Felt pity, was that enough?
Poverty stealing their smile
And that gap such drastic as Nile
From where did they come?
And where did they go?
Aren't they us? Aren't they?
The question is......
Will they ever be accepted?
Would those beautiful souls
Still live in the slums and holes
- PRACHI SINGH
Copyright © Prachi Singh | Year Posted 2021
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Details |
Prachi Singh Poem
If you were my rose, then I'd be your sun,
painting you rainbows when the rains come.
I'd change my orbit to banish the night,
as to keep you in my nurturing light.
If you were my world, then I'd be your moon,
your silent protector, a night-light in the gloom.
Our fates intertwined, two bodies in motion
through time and space, our dance of devotion.
If you were my island, then I'd be your sea,
caressing your shores, soft and gentle I'd be.
My tidal embrace would leave gifts on your sands,
but by current and storm, I'd ward your gentle lands.
If you were love's promise, then I would be time,
your constant companion till stars align.
And though we are mere mortals, true love is divine,
and my devotion eternal, to my one valentine.
Copyright © Prachi Singh | Year Posted 2021
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