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Aurora's Paradise | Zanhya Aldaine

When shall the dreams collide with days

Shall daydreams decide a rest

Dreary path, from that who rose

Dry days to delight with rose

Fridays to excite the toes

Breeze to seize years old weight

Disease this cold so old shall faint

A walk in the golden ways of fall

Talking with the angel for whom I fall

Calling out the constellations, while cuddled in his arms

Strolling in the garden, the magical garden of charms

Juiciest of all, that berry shall I favour

As red as my lips, which now thirst for moisture

Bits of my skin fall off, like the autumn leaves I dream

The dream a thousand years old

Thousand times I unfold

And mould it back

In a dark drawer of my head, I sack

With blurry vision, I behold the blue sky

Brewing my blues, watch a thousand birds fly

As drops of salt tint my cheek

Hints of hopes I hardly seek

Wearing a gown of fragrant flowers

Fairy crown of twigs; and scars

Gearing up for healing

I sing softly to the stars

That now scale my ceiling

Withered hair and fractured flair

Dreams that begin shall end somewhere

As the light beyond the tunnel I pave

Or, in the rotting hell of grave


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