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Words, words, words...
I don't know you.
Is it important?
I would like to say: Yes!
Is it possible to love
just for beautiful words?
I would like to say: No!
A real love should grow
like a flower grows
starting with a little care
with enough air and glare.
Words in declaration of love
look like a flirtation
which uses it's imagination,
like a fog or a smoke,
not the sunshine but a sunstroke.
You don't know me.
Do you agree?
It is really funny
to tell the unknown one:
You are my honey.
The shadows in the rainy evenings
can be covered by illusion.
Here I come to the conclusion.
You draw the picture of unstable image
and deliver a speech on a stage.
Your thoughts and dreams
lightened your mind by moonbeams.
So, meanwhile I can give you a smile.
And if I have a chance
I would like to meet your glance
which will tell me more
than thousand words told before.
poem
by
Larisa Rzhepishevska
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