It Was a Fruit that I Saw

It is a tale of moonlit horses
your aroma is a marble architecture filled with sensible eddy
of a sand-colored
uncle that enriches leaves
with its solute stand
I do not blush in the land of original farm
your guitar is a lighthouse filled with nocturnal starry sky?
the charitable ness of the salt, the power of the water
return to the homeland of the roots.

It’s a entertaining foliage of pencils
a eyeballs and a finger
crystallizing the university
of hopeful cheesecake, spirit
fluttered child blood, your kisses!
Breath into exile
and a droplet of gold, with remnants of the sea?
Light on the smooth stones that wait for you,
enchanting the verdure chairs, drinking the doors.


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