ARUNA LAKRA Poems

This street so familiar
Smell same as earlier
How do I not knock
Knowing my world
...

I am Here
The wind gushed passed me
Chilled my spine
Soul no shape
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Oh Pigeon!
The doors of my house has been shut
Do not come here anymore
Let me dry the still wet words
...

The Next Station..

My daily ride in the 7 train
Where travelers domain snow or rain
...