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High Time

One after another
appear the stars
behind the microwave tower.
Twinkling at the Imlong Place,
they appear to profess their existence.
So does a man.

Somewhere an owl hoots
praying for more darkness.
The Tower Clock strikes:
nine - ten - eleven.
The old man looks up.
It is high time for him
to get the lamps ready.
Deepu written by

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