Tuesday, May 15, 2007

His flower


A single flower he sent me, since we met.All tenderly his messenger he chose;Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet-One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."Love long has taken for his amuletOne perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yetOne perfect limousine, do you suppose?Ah no, it's always just my luck to getOne perfect rose.

"Love is like quicksilver in the hand.Leave the fingers open and it stays.Clutch it, and it darts away."

2 comments:

أميرة من غير قصر ولا بستان.. ولا الشاطر حسن كمان said...

i love it sooo much
but u know, sometimes u should close your hand a little to perform a casserol to keep your mercury safe :) from outside wind

bluemuffine said...

I'm glad U liked it:) w bsara7a magash f baly fekret el casserol deh bas heya 7elwa ya3ny:D asasan el 7etta deh is an english proverb hwa byet2al keda 3'aleban:D