The wind has got shapes, many,

At times it blows gently,

At times it turns mad,

At times it behaves like being sad!


It touches almost all,

None can ever call,

It shameless and arrogant as such,

Since it’s the wind’s nature to touch.


The friendly wind makes the tree-leaves dance in celestial joy,

Touched by the crazy wind, the maiden orders sari being coy!

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