She will live in me.

Once upon a time,

The poetry took birth And words started to rhyme. 


A young boy said 

‘I don’t believe in miracle’

The old man smiled,

‘You will when you will see that girl’
Boy asked 

‘Did you saw yours?

How does it feel ? 

Does love cures ?’


Old man described –

‘My love was old so she died 

These hand made her bury 

But I wanna be in the next coffin 

Because she is still living in my poetry’

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