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Spices, flowers and some music,
is all, that she has ever been
And her words that echo ,long after
she has left and is nowhere to be seen;

And at night when I hear her coming,
I pretend to sleep, and then I hear
Her whisper into my ears, things she said
and then could not say so clear;

She tells you how special you are,
and there’s none like you, anywhere
How much you mean to her
and to the world out there;

Her eyes speak it all, and her smile, mystic.
a saint so pure ,you fear losing all the day
“No, I would last forever”, she says to you
And then that’s all ,you always pray;

She has a dream ,she never told,
to see your smile never gone,
That’s all she ever wanted
a simple truth, that lingers on;

I find her awake before I am,
and working when I sleep,
She never complained or lost that smile,
she has somewhere in the deep;

Men pray to stones, and mud and paint
But I haven’t seen them talk
neither do they move or smile
nor they hug, or (with you) take a walk;

I know no more about them
But I have known this all along
I know no god , but her
Maa ,tell them i wasn’t wrong;

– Piyush Bansal (UG1)

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