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Worried girl sitting on the sand

Wanderer : Rising from the sands of the desert

Rising like the wanderer from desert’s grasp

No respite, no sanctuary to clasp,

City’s streets, barren in their hold,

Every path echoes the jungle’s bold.

Restless heart, a desert in its core,

‘Midst bewildered blooms, it seeks no more,

Whispers of the wind, its tales implore,

Wounds upon wounds, the heart does store.

Azra Mughal

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