Set your fodder widest
Like an ocean of yellow poppy field,
On an orange farm
That once ruled
The mazes of my dreams.
Here I stand,
A smirking child
Lost in the underground caves
Where I set my Indian soul free
Always upon your magnificence.
You offer me your oriental meal
Flavored with salted tenderness,
Laced with diamonds of
Hopes and promises.
When you tamed a whispering storm,
The moon was a scarlet fire.
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