Too Busy to Believe

You said, Is there anything which is dead or alive,
more beautiful than my body, to have in your fingers,
trembling ever so slightly.

Looking into your eyes, Nothing,
I said, except the air of spring,
smelling of never & forever.

... and through the lattice which moved as if a hand is touched by a hand.

Do you believe in always,
the wind said to the rain.
I am too busy with my flowers to believe,
answered the rain.





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Shyzilla said...
Jul. 14, 2011 at 10:09 am

i love it,

its absolutely beautfiul

 
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