Written by: jamal Abboud

I tore my notebook,
I have kept for fears,
On the shelf of safe years,
For a word or a look,
To be registered,
Beneath a title born free,
Chastely says,” I love thee”,
But the pages followed 
Remained empty,
Yellowy brown,
eroded with a frown 
of  hostile enmity,
with my pen and heart, 
my passion, hand and eyes,
and cripples colorful lives,
And breeds the cruelest unsight,
So cold no dreams shine in me,
And words in misery freeze,
In spirit in despair at ease,
Reflecting impact of thee.