'Where do you hide all these? your shooting stars? Your flowery fragrance?'

'Where do you exact
Keep your shooting stars?
Those that leave on my sky
Wonderous dreamy trail...
A blaze...
A haze...
A fog...
A mist...'
she asked him one day,
Sitting both as they,
Watching the sun rise,
And getting filled by birds' chirps...

he was thinking...
he was not listening...

Or

he might be listening full

he might be listening cool
Drops of words how mix with water...

'Where you hide your fragrant heart?'
he her asked,
Smiling,
Just when she thought
he was not actually listening to anything...

And the cliff
Where they were sitting,
Got drenched by gold...
Of a morn...

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