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Jiya

Poems, recollections, inspirational sketches, stories, travel vignettes.

Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Grandma

We walked among the violet hills,
she'd point to gull, to rock, to stone,
or to a violet sun ablaze,
and then I'd feel not so alone.
And when the trees called out their song,
I'd feel their tender call of glee,
I walked with grandma, my dear pal,
and somewhere, a song sang in me.



Posted by Jiya at 12:21 PM

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Jiya
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