No doubt I often pour the ink into the well of life ...
Asker by hand to break absence ...
Yet,
You was my dear friend ...
You smile is a form of sacred beings ..
You rustle is capable of drying tears.
And, you is the spirit that lives in the soul..
ooh poetry ..
you who frequent human attention from the heaven of eternity ..
you heart is santapannya. love is the wine.
while you are a true poet.
Who never finished in time for the recalled swallow.
I ...........
I am a new citizen of the world ..
Where is the human pursuit of material ..
And poetry merely commodities.
*mendyy
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