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Wishful Thinking

Pooja Chandrakar

Drawing plain flowers, eating sour limes.

Standing under banyans, thinking they were pines.

Running up the hill, frowning at sundown.

A cotton candy was good, wasn’t looking for a crown.

Riding on my bike, standing in the line.

Counting each cent, savoring each dime.

Unaware of the world, was happy mapping my town.

A cotton candy was good, wasn’t looking for a crown.

Tucked under my pillows, are the memories of that time.

When all the worries were absent, every arrow was benign.

It is still not that late, I can turn the cart around.

Cotton candy will be mouthful, no space for a crown.


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