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Unthoughtful
Unthoughtful I was ..
When my memory fell down in my hand
Those memory that do not have only
the flow from the fountains of your eyes.
,
Unthoughtful I was..
Perhaps, at the dawn of crimson,
Fascinated I was,O elegant
In my poem which live
Such as blueberry Earth
Here in exile here.
Fascinated I was,in her shivering letter
Which is like a grain of blueberry soft
Slip on your lips.
,
Oh ..
How trapped we were on harbours poem
How meek we were on her flow ,
How good and loyal we were to the glory writing
Copyright ©
Fatima Nusairat
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