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Some Nights


Some nights,

I wake up in an old house

By the side of a river

That is slowly drying up.

As the radio plays

"Wish you were here"

I see us,

Two little goldfishes

Lost in our fishbowls.

A river apart,

A shore apart,

A dream apart

Yet, the roots run deep.

Could we be more broken

By each other

Than we are now?

Further apart

Than we we are now?

So lost, yet found

Than now.

Could we be?

© 2021 Arpan Das