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Tanvi Golatkar Poem
The rain falls in a cascade,
myriad droplets dancing—
a lilt of rain slithers,
serpentine around my skin—
a whisper of hope in the dusk.
In the garden,
the lunar sky still shines.
Through the nebula’s haze,
a new star is born,
a spark of phosphorus glowing,
guiding a way out of the dirt,
like the spark in my own heart.
Copyright © Tanvi Golatkar | Year Posted 2025
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