Departed - Helal Hafiz

Where are you staying these days? Are you doing fine? Send me letters. One twilight hue rejoiced with the whimsical hand fan, bought from fair How is that doing at your hand so late at night, like this? Send me letters. Which page on the calendar is grieving with me, absorbed Bright eyes, chanting gazes, yearn there as they adore you. Send me letters. Which word muses along as hours pass, they play around as the day progresses? Which memory plays it safe , whispering to be soaked in floodgate of the lovers’ lane? Send me letters . Send me letters, Send me letters, Or else, not any more words to forbid, cuddle time with oblivion to chime The loser was this, me, who is relevant , there to be? Even though I loved thee to find only mistakes with me. Mistake, mistake. The gone astray dandelion, and the pollen, sprinkler delight within My killer noises of the solitude, noon hours, through my five, What else , anyway? In one life , wastage , how much of that will there be, anymore, anyhow? One Beatrice , to inflict heartache, how much pain of that will there be, anymore, anyhow?