short poem (Remove filter)
Property
It doesn’t matter how many years I have passed breathing oxygen
What matters is my urge to play with the wind
as I oscillate through the swing
And the force with which I exhale out my laughter
when those voices tickles my senses
And I feel as if I am still roaming around
In the streets of my childhood
Somewhere looking for those pebbles
That were actual treasures of my li...
Monday 8th October 2018 1:52 am
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