Cholera & Love

The never used up resource,
Like the logs on banks,
Propelling the boat as fuel,
Up and down the stream.

My love,
Like a music that never ends,

Yes, I am florentino,
And only thing that propels me
Is the love for you,
Let it be years or decades,
I’ll wait here in the park,
With Violin in my Hands,
Waiting for a time,
When cholera blooms,
And a boat with yellow flag,
Sails up and down.

Poems and articles by Dr Haroon Ashraf ©

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