Sunday, August 5, 2012





How can i think artificial
oh! that is so sweet a world
of fiction not real
where love floats on breaths
we inhale
Honey, oh when was it
i remember that i wrote
a love letter for rain drops,
for freshness of green
in thousand faces
you know
that was long ago
and many springs shed
their flowers on dried love
That is past indeed
and i stood there as a witness
where on the sand field
i watched with no honey sweet word
when your face fell
against black shadows
with no fragrance of love...

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