The gem in heaven, I owe each of my breath and every dream
And there’s he,
In each of my dreams,
Showering all his blessings upon me,
Always holding me tight, in my screams
dream
Delhi, An Old Unwritten Poem
The bus stops at Jamia Milia. Through the window I see
my young grandfather, gleaming eyes & spirited face, tender youth flickering through his cigarette smoke
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