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Sage Flower
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Satish Verma O my baby pain―
this house is on fire.
My body is going to war.
A lonely path, in life
and death― where does it
lead to― in wilderness of home?
The mob only loots.
Lynches and hangs you from
the lone tree of love.
I confess, there was
a chink in my armor, not
light but water seeps through it.
You start fearing the
windows. Not noises, time
was slipping pout, never to come back.
