A Small Word
The longing grew up on the handkerchiefs of my passion,
And all Songs of love spells
are not but a sail
Fighting the billows of my beautiful concerns.
From the wind I light the poem bleeding up,
And the time remains
Pitchers from wich I pour
The nectar of the words .
Copyright © Mustapha Maaroufi | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment