
Petrichor
The station was bustling as usual The train was crowded than usual. I boarded the bogie quickly And rushed to my seat hastily. Slowly chugged...
my feet no longer ask me permission to stroll around exhaustingly aware of storms brewing in my head wanting to scream into silence my thoughts...
The kicks in the womb, Eager to jump out To the mother’s bosom. The urge of an infant, Whose lovely eyes Yearn the father’s arms....
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