Africa by Kushal Poddar

A puff of dust

emits a child.

I am so small

in front of him.

Even those baobabs 

stand puny.

We play battlefield.

We play hide 

and vanish.

We play lions

and poachers 

after their hides.

I am so child 

before the future.

Dust winds through 

ashen baobabs.

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