The cold mornings
walking on the emerald grass
I see the dewdrops
twinkling like stars
I roam under that vast roof
you call sky
Sweet memories of you
a soft gush of wind
that passes by
I touch
the drops of rain
as gentle as your lips
on my palm
I see those webs
entangled
like the thoughts of you
inside my heart
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A free soul who has pledged to write more often. Enjoys writing poems, fiction and informative articles on tech and productivity.
