Is Born
The illusion of an angel
Taking care of my teps, is born.
The belief that you will be there
Taking care of me, is born.
Let me believe these sunny days
Are your smile and the sparkle in your look.
Let me dream that this warm weather
In the midst of winter
Is the intangibility of your hug
Sorrounding me.
That you are commanding the weather
So to keep away
A grey, cold and cloudy day
From flaking its sadness
And blowing myself to smithereens.
poem by Belquis Barés
Added by Poetry Lover
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