Bending neither to wind or rain.
Did not my hand touch your hair?
Did not my fingers touch your lips?
And my eyes kept on
our beautiful dream.
From a chink in a half-closed sky.
A voice came from the distance.
Splitting the coldest air.
Its fragrant scent a tiny life all again.
And the world turns to look.
But we are gone.
I long for that day. ​
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