Every day of the expiring years had a scratch on our mind map. It was the state of our ahu lords or our fluttering wings of joy in blue clouds put on the line of fate.
The relation of pen-to-kalam, which is an interpreter for the fires of heart, was a hand in hand with the same language.
The pencil, ripe for sculpting, waited patiently to cry out sentences under his tongue.
Sometimes there is a sky, it watches, sends drops of hope.
It becomes a stepping stone for your dreams with stars at night.
The sun rises and rises in your heart's garden, giving wings for five seasons with its fringes.
Sometimes it is the mother's lap and wraps around. It accompanies the burnt songs in the corridors of the silence.
He cannot show his resentment immediately. It is intermixed. His throat knots while swallowing. Letters enter each other.
I have always been a pencil sharpener, I could not love it. If you want to hear it. If you give it an opportunity, it will rip out your lung. Not shape, but ingenuity.
You are good for the fires of my waterfall spirit, you are full of words, you show calmness and make the u turn to the slopes of the heart.
Admit it, from time to time, a waterfall gushes out of you, you bounce like crazy foals. You are silent as you scream, you scream as you silence.
You become a honey bee to the layers of my heart, addicted to the spectacle. You absorb your share from every corner without even noticing.
His word has already taken place, and those who cannot find direction in the dead-end streets have appeared. The solution is of course outside of the assembly.
But there is no need for the guide in the visible village.
I say, if you and I go to a river like this and sing along to the song of the water.
You're jealous too. You don't want anyone. In a chalet like this.
No, no, you love the dawn. The farewell of the night, with the peace of the morning, roses bloom on the cheeks of your letters. You renew yourself. Your words mix hope with love and drink in the morning for the purpose of sherbet.
Our acquaintance goes back years ago. My heart fluttered in my cellar. Butterflies would fly in my head with the excitement of our meeting. You remember the first post. My inner voice could not stop my fingers trembling.
You are charming, playful. You walked around class.
As you know, after that, you know, resentment and resentment came among us. They struggled and succeeded to get us apart.
I left you both an orphan as well.
Your neck is bent, you have poured your tears into it. To chastise is a virtue, forgive you
My conscience suffered every day we were offended, I swear that I did not even throw out their little brothers, I put them to rest in the houses I built from special boxes.
I looked forward to the days when I would be with you, longing to sail in the deep sea oceans, to travel to discover the most special treasures with you, with the strength I received with your presence.
Now, look, we are together. I don't have such quality stories and poems. Whatever comes out of their heart ways and the tip of the tongue is here. I'm not assertive at all.
And let it not be resentful. Let's get along well in the world. What are we going to take away from this innocent. Your pearl is in my sight. Nobody can match you.
Don't look at me.Whatever subject comes to my mind.
Let me tell you something, "There are those who write so deep, rarely seen their spouses. Almost LOVE lives with their pens. They pass by themselves while writing. They are not in the world.
Let those who write like this multiply.
My aim was a little bit of hasbihad to celebrate our togetherness. You might say it is getting harder. It has been years.
Remember once in a while. Eat in the middle of my heart. Don't leave me alone. Call me.
I'm waiting for the roof door.
I miss you, every moment. Even when I'm with me.
I don't know the name of the dance on my fingers.
When you don't come, the little ones come to me.
Come always, come back time.
See you again next hasbihal.
Stay with love, chat my word.
