Poems On Gulmohar

Under the bright blue sky,

Where clouds fly like cotton balls,

I form poems with every turn,

On every road,

Relating each passing Gulmohar tree,

With memories of you.

Then when my mind is done thinking about you,

It starts to think about you again.

The road comes to no end,

Nor do the thoughts,

The poems are anyway,

Just for you

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