Sometimes I write to gently waft the air at the side
to come close-by
and whisper ?hi?
while your thoughts already enliven my mind
rising swirls of feelings
leaving my words at the brink
of poetry
intermingled with the prose
of reality
thickened by the fog
in your world
silencing your mouth and ears
before the speech of freedom
and the air of hope
you would hold
like a breath of love
should your pulse approach
to vie for my warmth
when I fall asleep
and you arouse on my lips
fantasies –
riveting thrills
that I take in bits of memories
from the heart
you relinquish to my sighs
like a wild horse prancing for spring
while I breathlessly run with scents
over void fields
to save our faith
and bring peace against the erratic scenery
that never counted with the dreams
we conceive our instants with
and grow them one by one
until they become

Sometimes I write a poem about you
just to say ?thank you?
sometimes I write
because I love you.

(Soar, 2014, ?

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