even if just a wither-will sprigÂ
of his best grass to belong.Â
See, those unstolen steadfast.Â
The dear father and mother,Â
when was the last time they hug?Â
Until the since of this silence,Â
the since of admiring each other's beauty
and desisting from shout outÂ
their language of poetry.Â
Between their halt,Â
feel, My Love!Â
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