If tomorrow comes Poetry
like she did today;
strolling through these lines,

let her promenade
her way, silently,

for I wish to not hear her voice,
but the sound of her steps
resound in my heart,


——— thump…

——————- thump…
like a lady strolling through a beach
gazing attentively at the horizon,
getting lost within the soul of the sun

let her….

And if tomorrow comes
that Poetry did not come
like she did today

let her come

not silently,
not quietly,

but loudly


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