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70 odd years

Am I too old or still young

Not too far I have stepped yet

A melody that is too often sung

by the mature and ignorant alike

I have braved

Every season under this sky

Saffron on the head with white on the chest

A little green underneath

And a blue speck to identify

I am the mother to cradle

and the father to put up a fight

My stature is of the tallest order

Sugar-coated sunshine or overcast skies

Not for me I ever seek

In all of US I believe

I was born as a nation of many

Oblivious to this incredible divide.

 

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