Flower You were the small branch of a patient tree, the longed flower which blossomed early that year, with an eternal sigh of agony, for it was to last. A flower taken away, higher than the tree could reach, nothing to be done, no comfort to be gained. Flown away, in his hands, with eyes shut, and with only one breath: your last and your first.
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Mohammed Abdi
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Dyana
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