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Wednesday, August 24, 2011

A Setting Sun

Buds surely fling at its lenticels,
grew ever greener with tiny teardrops shower,
butterflies who can’t restrain
churning down its throat the sweet nectars,
flips its beautiful wings tirelessly.

It’s like never missing the great sight
of swans graciously gliding over the water
if they do they’ll miss it for sure
when a stars’ sleeping in the silver crescent moon,
just delightfully missing them
like a child craving for his favorite delicacy;

Feeling better at those scene
when worlds partly shaking and disturbed
missing someones’ loosing a glimpse of a setting sun,
slowly fading into the horizon, an unknown boundary line.

Wait for the next set of twenty four hours to be awaken,
another day that bonds,
another lives fragrance,
of carpets grandeur splash,
memoirs of laughter, books of life tales, sobs, giggles, tickles
plenty but someone, someone to be remembered.
Cherelie Bonsadan
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