The paper boats that are folded,
With cute little fingers and hands,
Waiting for the rain to run collecting the mud,
From the streets of haunted visuals,
...
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the last line is a magical one, Veeraiyah, so potently it captures the poem's spirit.
flaring smile, good write, I like it, thanks. Please read my new poems and say something.
Living trees on the shores always get shocked. A concern for environment - destruction and pollution. Beautiful poem.