Water to your Earth

And here with the brimming cup I stand, gripped in my praying, outstretched hand - afraid of it being gleaned from my grasp, not of my fingers growing weary of this clasp... The tears refill the steals of the windy air, no fire from the sun can dry up what's here; this river can only…

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Longing…

As the shore thirsts for kisses from the soft cool waves, and the coy leaves in the boughs heave, for the rough wind’s embrace - does a reminiscent heart pine away in longing, through the nights and days. © Isha Garg