Fragile Poem by Hanan Muzafar

Through tall brown grass,
In cold November rain,
So far away, still close enough,
closer than beat and breath;
Say, what you've to say,
I'll fill you with love again—
Always shine,
for I'm there for you;
Come to me,
I'll make you to forget the pain.

A sketch you made,
near a blue sea, on sand,
and wind kissing your golden hair—
How long it'll last,
I hardly know,
when I'm in your arms.

Spirit I put in banal things,
dust I make to fall,
like a note flowing on chord;
Fragile we're,
and I don't know,
where to go, and where I belong.

Threads we weave, and strings I play,
In the middle of chaos—
Paper leaves flying in sky,
fragrant fumes we inhale,
and clouds calling your name,
like thyme grown all around.