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Friday, 8 June 2012

Hope





She watches every sunrise with such passion, intrigued by the exquisiteness of it, taking in every single way it differs from the sunrise the day before. She prays as she watches the scarlet turning to amber, a streak of pink and gold. Who knows which of these sunrises would turn her life around and onto the route of contentment? She didn’t want to miss the advent of the day that would change her life.  And so she implored every first light, bidding the morning moon goodbye. It pained her to leave with the grief inside that maybe this day would be same as the last, but bless her for she still had hope for smiles. 

Momina.





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