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Illustration by @luciesalgado
Whom shall I compare to thee?
Evening stars or morning breeze?
For I know nothing of paradise
Nor I know of mysteries of skies.
Shall I compare you to brooks
Flowing from every corner and nook?
For men may come and men may go
But the brook flows on and on.
Nay! I shall not compare you to any of these
For you my friend are a womder indeed.
Like Shakespeare's art you shall survive
Ages hence, your smile shall still be alive.
For for ever is not what are kinship is,
It is always which is epitome of bliss.
And he said on my beautifully freckled back it almost look like stroke Picasso would made.
10And I feel him-gun inside his mouth and his fingertips pulling the trigger. And I hear it blow.
1138 Launches
Part of the Poetry collection
Updated on March 29, 2018
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