Low level poetry. Instead of notebooks, bar napkins, pieces of sheet and paper towels, I write down here.
4/29/2012
Micro love song
The closer you are
the more butterfly I become.
Far off you
I creep and crawl.
And then your eyes appear,
and this caterpillar bursts in joy
for you make me winged,
for your splendent countenance
matches the radiancy of your soul.
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