Poem by Laila Ali Haid
Spinning from memory to yards in chances,
The light shone on the green trees in the park,
The hardness in clamour to beckoning meaning,
Was life's call to absence,
In reasoning and love,
When the hatred stopped one afternoon,
As glacial fancies docked to the night,
I wept for fortitude once more,
In the brass of the mores of it all,
There was creation.
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