Out on sea, instead of the cool sea breeze;
I'm greeted with the warmth of your scent.
On rainy-sunny days, instead of a rainbow;
You whisper poetic words to me.
And I pray to God every day, that you'll be a blessing of a lifetime.
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YOU ARE READING
'Silent' Clouds.
Poetry¶Words have no meaning, unless you make them, turning them into a spontaneous overflow of rhythm¶ ¶A string of broken pieces interwoven into into poetry. Broken symphonies, turned into poetry¶
