The sky was so blue 
As the wind blew, 
A rainstorm rose
Uprooting the rose. 

The maiden came so fair
With her ware and fare, 
Along with a cowherd, 
Not a sound was heard. 

She ran after a hare, 
Down was her long hair, 
Her breakfast she ate
When the clock struck eight. 

She let out a wail
And removed her veil, 
As she hurt her sole, 
Bleeding was her soul! 


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Babita Kejriwal
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