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Sense of an Ending

The sea was incessant For last four days. Rushing, tip-toeing - It kept me company, Uncannily knowing I Lost Someone. There is a warmth In sands That soak in sunrise And give in to sunset. One could bury his face And find a comforting Whisper. Nights, I would look at the stars And reminisce our Happy times. There are hardly any patient listeners than waves. They keep coming back To the same stories. Weeks pass And months wait. People do not come back But wind does. It is only then Emptiness beams And at times, comforts. In the midst of lonesomeness One realizes - In the end, what is love If not a little measure of loss. .

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