24 july 2013

poetry

Naeem
Naeem

To Hope

                  Wait not for my return,
       soon, as time fades, I will be forgotten.
 
           Let go of this hand, dearest of all,
    it is not you but I, who cannot see me crawl.
 
Let me fly into the fogs where great waves may lay,
worry not, dearest! Surely I have foreseen this day.

-Nr. 

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