The Year That Was

A year of regrets and afternoon naps
new shores and marauder’s maps,

Of heart shaped secrets
and bellowing gaps,

Of biscuits and books
and solitary nooks,

Of petrichor eyes
and sheepish smiles,

A year together, a year alone
Of whistling djinns and vagrant bones.

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sana rao

A reckless poet with a prosaic disability

Previously

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