A garden that knows no flowers
A mind devoid of thoughts —
Tell me they’re unreal; Just some kind of a nightmare. A pencil that refuses to write
A book that hates being read —
Tell me you’re kidding; You’re simply pulling my leg. A heaven that's not home for angels
A sea that harbors no fish—
Tell me they don't exist; Just myths, some horrid tales. A sun that shines just for me
A moon wishing for my smile —
Tell me; whisper them in my ears But only if they’re for real.//Sherma E. Benosa; 23 October 2007; 2:50am
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