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The moonbeam falls on her little face, its final destination,her bluish eyeballs that were fixated on the dancing evening cumulonimbi,on the rustling leaves that played peekaboo,now fell on this new focal point, this new whiteness,and she smiled, her curious eyes pondering,pondering on the source of that lilting light,that would probably lull her cradle to sleep.
Somsubhra Banerjee
David Rudder
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Beautiful :))
Top writer in Poetry. I am a diarist and write poetry to reflect my thoughts.
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