Thing called Love
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It makes itself known,
Like a lone rose blooming,
Rising into a desert night,
With the cruel morning looming.
It res
ponds to her touch,
As she croons and cajoles,
The seed of warmth,
Embedded in my soul.
It grows in me,
Like a much-wished for pain,
My soul soaks it up,
This cool desert rain.
8th of September, 2012.
Salman Shahid Khan
CompulsiveTypist 