Washed-up your
facial nuance, like jellyfish
at abandoned shore.
I was collecting shells
today, to write a poem for
your brown irises.
Pink chrysanthemums
will not say anything, but were dying
when you were away..
In rains you take a
figure, like a blue black bird
ready to fly away.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: December 8th, 2019 20:10
- Category: Nature
- Views: 7
Offline)
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