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TANGY LEMONADE
A tangy glass of lemonade:
It stirs up a memory,
Of a midnight bus journey,
From Madras to Trichy.
Chilled lemon tastes cool,
On a humid summer's night,
Let me not rekindle,
The flames that have died.
Tonight I may go,
And sit on the beach,
And talk to the dim moon,
Of how the ebb would flow.
And while the waves lap,
The stretching sandy shore,
I may lie quietly,
And think I am no more.
