Where walkways were fragrant with you, I shall Weep, It was not till I left your town, I knew I shall weep. Affinity is at discount in the market of subsistence; There are thousands in the meandering queue, I shall weep. My longing is an iceberg entombed under the desert, Count not on cactus, drops […]
This post first appeared on One Grain Amongst The Storm | A Mélange Of Memoir, please read the originial post: here