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Chrysalism

By Rhiddhit Paul


A welcome gloom,

Transfixing me to the stone cold

Window sill

And I wait.

I wait for the heavens to weep.

After an eternity of sultry heat.

The wind brushes my cheek.




A soft gentle touch.

And seduces me into a daze.

As I wonder,

I wonder

As lonely leaves roll on by

In the deserted street below.

When the sky shall start howling

When the branches may start dancing to and fro

In this romance of an evening monsoon

When the chrysalism may take hold.


By Rhiddhit Paul





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