Long tiring days,
Destination home,
Idyllic waistline,
Perfect head,
Must be frosty,
Delicious barley,
Always, makes the week worth it.

Pious old man
Reading the Quran
Always watching skies
For non existing storms

His daughter, my aunt
Silent like a pond
Longing for her child
Sitting next to her

Her husband, a martyr
Captured in a frame
But surely his soul
Floats somewhere around

Their daughter, a mum
Peaceful like a dove
A physician in love
With some plants and seeds

Her daughter, a child
Curly nasty hair
Annoying as hell
Innocent as dawn

Her son, a school boy
Hungry like a crowd
Surrounded by books
Distracted by clouds


And me.
                   *(doing poetry)

I always say that I let it slip away.

But that's not really true.

Because unfortunately,
To have let something slip away.

Means I would have had it in my grasp to begin with.

on your own terms
in your own way
you left me
and you walked away
I'm broken for now
changed forever
I want to forget
and never remember
your moan in my ear
you hands on my hips
your body against mine
and your lips on my lips
the way you were with me
was special and true
or so I thought
I thought I knew you