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Swallowing Sabbaticals

Warmth is a long sedimentary pause,
sip it,slowly,
through eyes that have learned
the craft of forgetting.

Too much of an interlude
and the spaces around you
start spewing nostalgic visions.

The Sabbaticals turn to never ending
regrets.
I turn to a normality I feared:
A morning in April with no rain.

I should have woken up,
when It was winter,
and my heart still booming
with the summer’s dream

– Shashank Bhardwaj

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