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Evenings of Gold
- Gurdit
- Oct 3, 2019
- 1 min read
The air has changed,
From hot to cold,
The leaves on the trees,
Are falling after being gold.
The sun sets a little early these days,
Leaving traces of love’s grace.
I walk past you,
You stare right back,
Even without any words,
The conversation we had,
Was magical like the sunset I clicked,
By the bay’s side,
Captured for the one who missed.
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