On The Hill Of Dead

On The Hill Of Dead

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By Mudasir Ahmed I came across a tiny shoe and sock. I had made with love for your dear feet, I hug the frock across my chest. And in imagination, ah, my sweet, Once more I hush you to rest, And once again I warm those little feet, On the hill of dead, across the Kashmir. Where do those grown young feet now stand? In blood flooded trench of half numb to pain, To some dread place that they may never gain. On the hill of dead, across the Kashmir. I saw you like a shadow on the sky In

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