Bloom - Poem
- Pratik Kabra
- Jun 12, 2021
- 1 min read
It sticks to your skin, woven through the fleece of your scarf; invading our air. for a few, it is the smell of misfortune, of Spring of memory of jasmine, polianthes, Blossom - as far as I might be concerned, it is you; it is my favourite you.
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