The Virgin Poem by Moz Rauf

The Virgin



She smells of roses,
That bloom like sleep
Without dreams.

Every night,
She grows old and pale
Like an aging moon,
Behind autumn trees.

Moz Rauf
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: autumn
poem poems autumn
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Poems By Moz Rauf
Lips
Reason
Moonstone
Serendipity
A Virgin Night
See All Poems by Moz Rauf
Moz Rauf

Moz Rauf

Lahore, Pakistan
Moz Rauf
Moz Rauf
Lahore, Pakistan
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