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Click hereOften, when the sun dies
And the rich scent of dew
Had settled upon
sun-tired flowers,
I love to watch
your nimble steps...
Tread cold,
bended blades of grass…
Staring at the broken afternoon…
Contented to rebuild
charred moments
of restless dreams…
But when you look at me
I always know---
Sunset my dear is your sullen lips…
Lonely of gentle caress…
Fragile petals of a rose that closes…