A stranger’s talk

With a stony garment

Threateningly hovers

In our every step

Cold drops of courtesy

Burn our breath

Did hope cease

To visit our heart?

The snow today

Isn’t white

It is colorless

Like the iris of our eyes

Like good morning

Which doesn’t come out of our lips

Did love cease

To visit our heart?

A torn poster

In the whirl of the wind

Our every word

Blue pebbles

Sunk in the blue of the sea

Our dreams

Did poetry cease

To visit our heart?