The Lost Garden
Birds are chirping on branches
Hidden behind the foliage
Their tiny tails hitting the leaves
Hopping around from branch to branch
Sometimes I can see their colors
Olive green and white
The wind blows and they leave
I hope they will come back soon
Watching the little birds playing
Breathing the air just born from the leaves
More meaningful than books
Written by famous professors with many titles
Holding you and kissing your cheeks
You haven’t shaved for a few days
Your spiky beard stings my lips
We are in a corner of the lost garden
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