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EVERYONE CAN DREAM...
In these days, soul is narrow to song,
I write one poem a day.
It has also doleful and bright one too, Soil, life, heart, that’s all I say.
When I write I’m blind, I'm deaf,
But my heart is beating clock. Destroying, creating, like a goldsmith, I say what it has...then put a full stop.
I look for a listener and.
To back my heart forces.
Waking up, calling, whining,
I want to know your thoughts...
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Once I sang the happy love,
The painful parting broke my pen. As the flight of lonely dove,
Lyric poetry found its end...
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