By Loubna Flah
By Loubna Flah
Morocco World News
Casablanca, March 7, 2013
The tiny moth with the circular designs
Broke its wing on a hazardous flight
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It landed swiftly as I start
Pouring my verses into my draft
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As I dream, as I feign to think
The poor moth drowns in my ink
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It flutters and stumbles over my lines
As the melody wanes
And the inspiration declines
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With my words odd and diffused
And my thoughts utterly confused
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The moth dies under my eyes
On my stray page, lifeless it lies
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Before I could pour in my art
All the throes of my heart
Photo by Yassine Abouyaala
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