
WALKING PATH
I wasn't
Sleeping
I wasn't
Singing...
I lost myself
In her kisses
which flowered
In my bones...
Now my
Entire body
Is like a
Painting brush
which is
Full of colours..
My walking path
Will write poetry
From now on.
Poetry by anoop.m.r
Read 1910 times
Written on 2008-05-20 at 07:04
Tags Poem 
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Anne Westlund |
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