Little by little,
The colors of the fair are going to finish
One day,
It will be the end
  Of all the vagary

Slow decay of the days
This known Spring afternoon
  Turn to be fading
  Tired
Going to be end

Who has left thy love
Thy hide all secrets in the heart
Days have lost within the days
Getting the path between the path

On what hope,
Loved to Back
And what means
   The life
   Family
Two days of this world
  One day you come
  One day you go
Know the hearts who are loving
   Singing
   Going

On what for her mind cry
She who left her mind
In half of the way
How She grabs all the demands!
Whatever words She departed
In the Songs of despair

So Mind Say
Who is where
Who is for whom
Thy know
Not Anybody else
Passing the every moment
   Alienating  
   Loveless
   Mysterious

Such a colorful world
   Growing
   Glittering  
But this known Spring afternoon
  Turn to be fading
  Tired
Slow decay of the days
Growing to fade your face
Going to be End

@Musfiq us shaleheen

with morning's breath
soft kisses touching
lightly the nape of love

MChallis © 2015

In a spire, in the white mansion you live in a colorful dream,
but here in this dungeon, of a nightmare I am trapped in reverse time,
a secret passage will bring us together, says your incredible message
but my love, tell me how, if I am forbidden from even dreaming you?

People of peace walk gently
People of strength never to be stilled
Abundance awaits you with courage

RW Dennen-

Came the Black voting rights march into Selma, Sunday
1965...

And being gathered in prayer before crossing, you soon felt smashing upon your body as blood seeped down your face
on a Sunday and the initial retreat too too much to remember:
About dogs and billy clubs; about fire hoses ready and that very bridge, later will carry hearts of conscience all in the great name
of the American ballot box

Today, I say hail for the slain and hurt of the historical past; I say hail to both black and white
brothers and sisters once endowed with bravery embued with inalienable rights

Hang strong my true people of the bridge
Hang strong for that greater bridge that bridges into dignity of today
Hang strong and hold dear to your hearts "The Sunday Selma legacy"
and  "The spirit of the Edmund Pettus Bridge"

If there was a favorite button of yours, it'd be ignore.
The letters would be smudged and slightly worn,
it would probably read with a vague "I" and a less visible "ore".
You used to read it all the time, what'd you quit that for?
Does this lapsed habit read into something more?
Should I be worried, furious, nonchalant?...I'm torn.
Guess I should think about that less
and write **more.