Poem 3 Poem by Khaled Najar

Poem 3



When I was young
I walked to the gates of the South
listening to the gushing of springs at night.
When I was young and innocent
like the shells of dreams,
the butterflies on the roof were my stars
and the shadows of horse carts
were my angels.

Friday, October 10, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: horse
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