I am whistling
my soul out
do not know
what is the joy all about
on a cottage
atop a lonely hill
I weep
in staccato
and when quiet
I whistle
hard
shimmers of Sun rays
greens of oaks
neatness of tea gardens
do not help
something
is out of knots
deep inside
no other person need worry
why I whistle
so hard!
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