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What’s missing?
- Gurdit
- Jul 6, 2020
- 1 min read
I stare at the sea-blue colored moth,
Sitting on my ceiling,
As I listen to the frogs,
Outside my window,
All in anticipation of an inspiration,
To form words into poetry,
Like everyday,
But, something seems like a miss,
Like a god or a muse maybe.

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