Poetry, Rabbi Rabit

I, a skiff, and an encounter with sun-rays! {Poem} | The Indian Sage

Stroking the paddles,
the skiff was rowing mid-stream,
I could see nothing but knolls and cliffs.
The river taking sharp turns,
grappling with gravels, and bergs,
making way like the potentate and imperious.
It’s flow is transcendental,
more promising than Oxytocin,
more ravishing than a nymphet.

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