January 28, 2017
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There are days when

The sky is mourning its

Sea-sparkle blue.

A thin coating of

White shudders above

And frowns at the ground.

The trees are bare and empty.

The grass has lost its sheen.

The flowers sulk in silence.

At night, rich onyx streaks the empyrean.

The hunters and lions shimmering

In the sky are dappled with

Melancholy nothingness.

These are days when the world

Is holding its breath, waiting

To let it out.

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