puisi tentang ketenangan setelah badai
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Steam and Shadows
A pot whispers, holding its breath,
steam curls like thoughts unspoken,
I sift through pages, old ink,
each word a sigh, a pause,
motor hums slide past the window,
their echoes ripple through silence.The kettle's murmur grows insistent,
as if urging me to remember,
the past clings to my fingers,
like dust on forgotten …