She whispers from there: Where will you find your story? The violet roses are sleepy, and the mirrors follow the white trees. The birds and the fabled river know that moment which needs a smile and warmth.
I will drown in the yearning sea. I will hug that train where we met sleepy sounds, so from there my story will begin.
She said: the river colors are descending from that balcony and they should kiss the eyes of flower seller. That colored shadow told me: when the moon sleeps in your lids, you will know a new kiss and you will see the cloud flowers.
The poem was published in Tajdeed lietary magazine: A Colored Shadow