By Assim El Mimouni - Oujda
When the soul leaves one's eyes
And a corpse in a grave lies
When one's used to be huge love dies
With sorrow and grief nature cries
Yet the red flower timidly smiles
Sill wondering wherefrom such melancholies rise
Even my glittered ring flies
Towards pastures with no seize
The flower's wish may seem difficult to realize
When it comes to love, things should be precise
Hypocritical love is no more than rotten pies
But pure love is what faded flowers despise
The red flower was the angel's surprise
And my heart was given to her as a prize
And a trip to the unknown we organize
Wake up buddy, your lessons you must revise.
Photo by Yassine Abouyaala
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