Sonnet of Love
We stand on the ground
upon a turning page
brandishing like a banner in the wind.
Here in the branch of land
and the debris of its flipping leaves
and the page
that in its lines
absorbs the ink of our fate
the book that from the green ink of our phase
prints the unsettling song of its departures
with the words that
they seize hands to serenade
And to tune
the golden grove of our chests
when they burst in their love
and the white flutter of our wings
grafting
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poem by Hammadh Zareer
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