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November
Any day
It’s quite cool; there are no rains
Or thunder except
In my mind
Where the world is stormed.

There’s a car on halt
Two of them kissing
There mind in some oblivious vault.

My vision affixed on them
My breath unaware of my thoughts; keeps finding its way
In and out.

The storm passes in that meaningful void.
Lips depart; breath hitches,
Longing for that excruciating spectacle to befall again.

A tear falls; then enliven to sobs.
The vehicle gone,
Our kisses sustain;
The storm unleashed
because of some stochastic
Memory again.

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