With ease the flower juggled
Playing sweetly tenderly with the sun
Outside the vent of my window
Where I smelt the fragrance

Of this pretty yellow flower
Eavesdropping in my penal dream.
Could this be the fruit
Of billion trees veiled in vain

Innocent voices drizzled
And flooded patiently the weighted heart
Weighted heart of sombre days
Sombre days of beautiful injuries

All the Arabesque of the eyes
That foamed far then clad facades