Saturday, October 17, 2009

Aziz Akhlaghi (1928-1990)‎

The End of the Dove…‎

He loved as he walked,‎
And he flew away,‎
When the roads
Closed on him –‎ ‎
Overnight. ‎

I close my eyes, and ‎
I hear his voice, ‎
I see his smile, ‎
I taste the smell of his wings, ‎
I sense his pride –‎
When I sang or played. ‎

All the time, it feels, ‎
He’s been around, ‎
He’s been alive.‎
‎ ‎
Yet, for nine years and ten, ‎
It seems, he's never aged.‎..‎

Photo: © Rob Palmer. Digital modification for P.R. by P.A.

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