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Fish swims, the moon shines
At my distorted reflection on rippling pond
Somehow lightened my darkened trudge.
Please bear with my first haiku. Im still learning to write this kind of poem. Thank you.
She hums a few nursery rhymes
Tiny tender  stomps
Swinging forward, swaying sideward
In her womb randomly, gracefully.

Little feet listen as her heart
Drum rolls the beat.
In tranquil nights, sudden kicks
Danced her to sleep.
There are moments
so beautiful
that before it begin
it has to end.
Like our love
a firework lit
it started to die,
as it started to live.
Now that your literary fire is ablaze,
it is your turn to use it
to change the world.
Make it a warm cozy home
with doors spread wide
like a mother's arms
that welcome a kid
who had a bad day from school
or an exhausted husband from work.

Use that fire to make
your own signatured
sumptuous literary menus
that will ease hunger for hope,
to fuel a day ahead,
or light a dark path
to lead a bright one.

Now, pour all the grains of your mind,
cook it with all your life's experiences,
add a heart to taste,
and a sprinkle of soul to finish. Taadaah!
You have the most exquisite literary piece in the world to feed the entire universe.

XO
While the world thinks she's back on track,
She spends her mornings behind curtains drawn,
Noons at the cafe where they used to go,
Sleepless nights finding out where to start.

She drew her pen and spelled her thoughts.
Empty words, clingy clichés,  broken oaths were new metaphors.
Sentences gushed one after the other like devastating waves of a stormy weather.
Tired eyes brimming, her heart ebbing with hope.
We drew the line.
My path extended to you, yours to mine
Was it I who drew it first?
If it were you, was it reverie
Or deja vu?

One day, in another moment or place,
Comes a time we are free.
Our paths will meet.
You will come to me
As I to you.
Hearts don't really forget.
A vanishing scene,
flickers in dark
she must remember,
she must write.
Endearing strokes
of black and blue
papers stained with
thoughts of you.
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