'the moon...
silvery...
where has she gone?
is she busy taking care
of her
little angel?
is she drawing picture
of a sea...
where a dream rests perfect in happy drowsy state?
has she turned into a love ridden poet?
the moon silvery...
where is she?'
he thought
traveling down
when an evening descended
to knock
at the twilight's door...
he thought of her...
using all resources at his disposal...
ether net...
non ether...
clear vision sense...
blowing mind out of chains...
syncing hard with that frequency shot and transmitted...
through waves generated
by heart mind soul triple working overtime...
he thought of bending ariel time...
and then...
a cuckoo sang...
and
at a crossing he saw a woman...
walking across in beauty so
he thought in her,
Her he found dropping slow...
as once a poet did on a film develop
lovely thoughts serenely expressed soft...
on his love with eyes full of peace...
on his love who with calmness fervently him kissed...
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