Poem: Last Days

The seed is turning.
The tide has risen.
The ocean has started to listen.
No one is talking.
The love is burning the flame.
Showering the water with the open glaze.
Listening to the winds brush it away.
Not knowing that this is our last days.
The last days of a love that made mountains.
The love the broke hills.
The love that no longer has a lover.
This is the end of our days.

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