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Winters

 Winters bring out the beauty of the sunrays. The mild yellow streaks falling on the bedsheets, the curtains , on the side table which has been a mess since fall, on the bookshelf and on our face, comforting us with the warmth we all crave. As we walk down the streets in those quiet afternoons , the lanes whisper to the walls about their golden glow which they get from the sunlight which peaks in from the dying leaves of the trees, creating art in every corner. The little dance of lights and shadows between the lanes continue until its dusk and the cold wind veils the city, making it difficult for the street dogs. As the warmth departs, and the chill takes over, the heart looks for a shelter. With the city dolled up with Christmas lights, and  people heading up with hopes, there's a sudden occurance of a familiar fragrance in the air. A fragrance so familiar and old yet so fresh, feels like they never left. The heart shrinks and breaks when it desires the undesirable yet it doesn't fall as it waits for dawn and the Sun to make it brave. 


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