Their Purses, a bit unwilling of course.
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You are my dream queen-
I greet you on Holi.
For she is A widow,
A Goddess Of holinessOutside a shrine,A thing of beautyWithout a loverA woman withoutWomanliness.
The sound of falling down
All dignity wilted by wind.
Apes are Mothers
But their Kids to love none.
The broken brow of the night
You sway in a silver time boat.
A poem is a moment’s spark
into the timeless, divine journey to eternity.