The Monsoon
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Mind drowns in past memories
This often happens in the months of monsoon
The sweet smell of soil is felt
The unshakable smell is felt
So many lost references come together
Paintings become rhythm and smell
Some special old pains give freshness
How much happiness is found in the translations of tears
Pairs of swans dancing
The dancer lightings folds her wrists
In the season of songs, one feels afraid
The restraint finger may let go any time
One feels like committing a crime
In the madness of such a colorful season
The mind flies on rose flowers
On the swings bearing the weight of youth
One feels like signing
On all the mistakes possible in such a season
One starts missing someone close
Who is really close in depression
Thank you so much for reading. Have a great day 😊🙏
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