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Flowers they bloom,

Flowers they turn,

Growing from small,

To very nice and firm,

Rapidly and steadily, coming all along,

So beautiful and brave,

Living on their own.


So pithily explained,

The red and pink gradient,

With green all along,

Razzling and waving,

Dancing at every sound.

‘She’ proclaimed to be a scribbler,

With the proud stories of her own,

The ink as water droplets,

And the green meadow to write on,

The good, the bad, the stories of the dawn,

The days, the nights, and all that has gone.

A sheer blessing for me,

She is protected, secured,

But so good when free,

I may not be that infallible,

One day we’ll go flee,

To the world full of  blessings,

Just like you and me!

Subsided, yet so strong,

Gathering all the memories, she’d frowned on,

No matter she says or not,

But deep inside I know, she ever wants to stay young.

The darkest of the nights,

And the brightest of the says,

She saw the glory,

And those who betray.

And at the end of a roller coaster ride,

Time to leave but her heart doesn’t abide,

The fear of separation in her eyes,

Is what I see,


Ode to the purest form of love ~Sashank Neupane

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