I watched in ignorance the remains go by
I tried to draw a bridge, a canal, a little door...

I often forget you
in the sun...

What do you want of me?
the ghost, the lone lover writing poetry...

Each lightening up in his own part of the world,
trying to break the distance...

Wildly these feelings
sleep upon this bank...

Something in your words stands out,
whether pushed into low punctuation...

People seldom return
Seasons never cease to leave...

My starting verse
a thorough beginning...

You can keep trying on and on,
but your misery just won't help...

Did I not stir the sharp taste of past
in my sweetened cup of tea...

Sun Curls in my Shoes
by: Rania Moallem...

...and if you ask about my well-being,
I am floating over clouds...