Dull, grey, cold – it bides time listlessly,
Looking askance at the door, in the hope
Of that ever-elusive footfall — mine,
Dreams dashed, it sheds silent tears through the night.
I pine, I cry, I resolve, I set out
To meet my love, the one I spurned so long,
But my leaden footsteps betray me
I hit, not the treadmill, but the cake lounge!!
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Latest posts by Urmi Chakravorty (see all)
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