Poem
By Basnta K Lohani
My land is full of
wrinkles
Like an old man
But unlike man
Land does not die,
they say.
So it troubles me to
think
Why my deathless
land is full of
wrinkles!
I know now
Why my land is
wrinkled,
It is sucked dry
By the adjoining land
And while that land
Bloats itself on my
land
My land gets
wrinkled
And I fear It may die.
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