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A mediocre

You're enjoying I'm creating Neither hundred percent Nor the hundredth of whole Only like a mediocre of You and me. As long as I'm writing My poem bridges the gap Even though a single Atom of us.

Waving leaves

I don't think
To be indulge
Waving leaves
Felt the pulse
Innumerable leaves
Are up to wave
Blowing wind is
Eager to shave
Scorching day is
About to smooch
Nowhere is yet
Monsoon's approach.

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