Red Droplets Pulsing
With a few red droplets still pulsing
The last living sinew in this chest of mine
Holds this heart back from ascending it’s cage
While my ribs tremor is heard as a sign
Slowly maturing
Into that ripe old age
What can I tell you about her?
Where the Morning Breeze resides?
The Seas quench the thirsty
And the sands cure sore eyes
And though her femininity dims not the Sun’s effulgent ray
Even if the Moon were masculine, he’d lighteth not the day
Not like her
It’s from الله
