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The Poet in His Shadow

Where my thoughts fall I see a falling leaf, While biting into an apple I would turn deaf. It’s not my fault I can hardly see far Things fake a somersault, Yet the door is ajar. Someone calls I’m not sure I’m home, Shadow falls, I need a road to roam. Ask the mountain how It stands in your way, Storm and wind do blow My pen shows the day. ©️ APU MONDAL

The Poet in His Shadow
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