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Fugitives
The fugitives remained absent,
They eagerly committed sins
Too profound and logical,
Too many early flowers.
Then they reached heights
Of murder and theft,
On their pillows they snored
And met the surgeon.
Unheedingly the snow of confinement
Enslaved the reminded ones,
The fugitives leapt into the fires,
With a handful of golden crocuses.
poem
by
Naveed Akram
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