A poem on a turbulent mind
I get the urge to write. Anything, so long as it’s written. The subjects flit through my mind Like leaves on an Autumn wind. The tree is now bare. The urge is gone.. Bliss!
Continue reading →I get the urge to write. Anything, so long as it’s written. The subjects flit through my mind Like leaves on an Autumn wind. The tree is now bare. The urge is gone.. Bliss!
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