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Hugging
poetry [ ]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [NUN ]

2011-03-18  |     | 



The hope came in spring,
with the smell of open buds,
of acacia,
in Friday after the noon prayer.

The death was desperately seeking,
to kiss me between two eyes,
where even today the kisses of the white roses,
full of mysteries are sleeping.

Percolating soul drop by drop,
By each drop a book,
Hugs the life,
motherly.

.  |










 
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