Simile
As empty as long winter nights.
As weak as hopeless minds.
Gathered together like children to grandma’s tales.
As rough as unknown roads
Trembling like a lost wanderer,
Praying like my father.
Smiling like a champion
Bouncing like a frog embracing the rain.
Metaphors
Heart of hopes
Mountains of hurdles
War is a change.
The ocean is a mystery
The moon is a pathfinder
The house of dreamers.
My love is a moonlit night
Writing is a rainbow.
To your city
So many nights I walked barefooted in the heart of your city like a lost wanderer, like a ship in a mystery ocean. That was my nights with your moon. My dark nights with your moonlit nights. Your moon sometimes begged me to clear the gray curtains of fog; I did as I always wanted to, keeping the mountains of hurdles away from the Moon. Because I promised you. I promised you to safeguard the Moon from the black clouds, from the white clouds, from the blue clouds. I also kept the kites away from your moon. I fought with the Sun to keep you happy as you once told me your moon would face a capital punishment on the arrival of the Sun. It never happened; the Moon never died because I was there, your dreamer.
But last night was different. I fed your moon to a beggar at ”Hopes Avenue.” He was starving to death and told me it, the Moon, looked like a toasted naan. I dragged the moon to his mouth because he needed food to live on. I killed your moon; I killed my nights, for a smile on the beggar’s face.
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