Land of Jasmine
Take me to the land of Jasmine, where peace comes alongside, scurrying. Take me to the land of the white buds, where a sage bird finds a new friend, on the cracked brown woodland. Seldom have I borrowed a hand in ages, for I have burned by my own fire. When the wind had gone home, I saw her hair dancing. When the light shifted in pitch, I saw her in all colour. At times, there was I who did cruelty to all and myself. This time, have I not confused this? The land of Jasmine carries music and mores, the chaos seeds lying down that crawled, the red rain, up all from heavenly friends, a butter knife nearly fatal, and a white house afar from mine. If so well said, how do you say it be peace? If so well said, how does the sage bird glee? I know, as I know. Two steps to the right, one toward you. In haste, shan’t I catch your iris dew? A story lingers in a quiet mirror from lead to ink, I had left. Two eyes, beautiful skin, fifty-six. I am shuffled in spheres of...