July 19, 2015

Like the dew of the early dawn,
Slipping from the petals of orchid,
Your thoughts slip over my psyche,
Bewitching and slowly,
I drown in it,
Helpless I am,
And when I hear the breeze,
Rising from your meadows,
It sings ode of your persona,
Of which I wish to be a stanza,
The one with relentless rhyme,
For when you sing your life,
Your lips must hum my name,
And when I write my life,
My pen must ink your reign,
Dear friend,
What are you?
If you are not an addiction.

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