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  • Writer's pictureAshima S


The Shimmering summer sun Sweat soaked shirts sticking To our suntanned skins Time is ticking. The bumpy bus ride back, Running barefoot on the grass And pavement Alike. Wonderful worlds we built Every waking moment, Wandering whimsicalities, The wilderness. Sweltering heat, The smell of rain in the air, Relief.

Time is ticking, Unaware. Dreamlands, created of sand in our hands, Under our nails, In our hair. Moments washed away. But memories, They stayed. Like shells After the high tide, Buried Under our sun-tanned skins So time is ticking, But I am aware now.

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