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By Ishita Singhal

It was a terrible fear of knowing,

that the racket of waiting to achieve something is long.

It was the peculiar soul in the movie,

who held his arms out to go through yours in a detailed read.

It was a time of summer

when rains touched the artistic hands.

It was a time of the rainy season,

where summer sun had built a sweat nest.

It was a time on the clock, not a grandfather clock,

but a toy clock with an alarm setting.

It was an era of youth and their diversity,

to accept the whole deed.

It was that famous emotion,

which everybody cries out loudly.

It was that passing turmoil,

which hinders the path of the sky.

It was the motion of the life,

which settled down at every chapter in delight.

By Ishita Singhal

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