Varun Sivashankar


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The Cloud

Pierced by the mountain peaks, so very high,
Directed by the wind in the blue sky.
I travel ‘round the world and everything I see,
Nothing escapes my notice, whatever it may be.
When the birds come, I enjoy their stay,
They come sing to me and then go away.
When night arrives, and everything is black,
I vanish suddenly but I know I'll be back.
The next day comes, and in the morning shroud,

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