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Untitled. Printable Version PRINTABLE VERSION
by Ha Thi Lan Anh, Canada Feb 28, 2004
Poverty   Poetry

  

On the road
Of rose thorns
Blood was running
From where her bare feet were walking

She was pissed
With the smell
Of deadness
Evaporating from her heart

Gently
A soft wind
Tapped on her back

There behind her back
Glancing at her nose
She caught
Red roses
Paving its sweet odor
Into the sky of no floor.


No floor
No floor
No floor
Thrown herself
To fly to the top of the roof
Of sensational love
And romantic spontaneity

Sparkles fading

Falling back
Onto the road
Of rose thorns
Where blood shed
Is where blood dried
Leaving behind
Behind
Behind
Behind
Behind every step of her foot
A smile

She has so much love to give.
Should she not wear bare feet
Where blood shed
Is where blood dried

She moves on
With a smile







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Ha Thi Lan Anh


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