Charming faces,
full of life, or wisdom … all gone, god knows where
Never to
return, that is for sure, or never to return in the form
God knows
where they disappeared…
one day, or
the same day everyday, he’d sit with his back to the sun
A paper in
his hand, combing worthy something to read
Mostly miracles
Life is not
what it seems, he’d say, and death is not what you fear
he knew things
like that, the old man …
and so he
searched for reality, mostly miracles
beauty, be
mine, i prayed once
but the besty
had her heart
gone in
labour, the chid survived
the air turning
lavender, she’s somewhere here
those
sparkling eyes of little kids
They reflect
my death
i smell
their hair, they smell of me
I live
underneath,
I am not
what they see, I am what they’d feel one day
Life is not
what it seem, and death is not what I fear
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