a dry flower on the work table.
reminiscence of yesterday's sweet fragrance.
a love that breezes into an opinionated encephalon
like a sweet dream.
...
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'that old love song from oblivion paying a visit to the drudgery of classroom like a butterfly that lost its way from a beautiful garden fertile with meaning and situated before history. (can all the alphabets of the world be a substitute for the memory of honey that you carry, my dear?) ' Nice one!
A passionate reflection of another time and place! An excellent composition.