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Writer's pictureGurdit

Like Poetry Without Words

He comes sneaking from the back door,

Assuming I'll never realise his arrival,

When I can sense the shift in the air,

Long before he moves closer to me,

And as if the world has stopped,

For that moment,

Or rather I want it stopped,

So I can forever stare,

In his eyes with mischief and smiles,

Like a poetry without words.



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