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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…

Movement

 


I called your name

And you smiled;

Radiant...

Like warm rays dancing on lapping waves,

Bubbles rising up in a glass of champagne,

Cobwebs by the window

Shaking gently...

About to break but never breaking.

The violins play...

The feet hit the dance floor...

Roses in the air,

The smell of coffee...

We hold each other

And spin...

Hitting the tables and other people...

Going way out of the dance floor;

Our feet faltering...

Imperfect beings entangled in movement

So imperfect,

Yet so divine...

Pure...

Warm as a hug,

Sleek as a wet lip,

Trembling slightly like a teary eye.


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The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…