 It was a soft spark
Amidst a blue hazy moon As her lips met mine
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 Sometimes I forget
I wonder if it was warm The day I met her  Lost is my shadow
Torn perception dripping red Slowly fades to death  Blue, grey, gentle breeze
Shakes the nandin berries free Sweet scents spark my mind |
AuthorMayed Al Qasimi Archives
May 2013
Haiku
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