Spilling Through Prose
The saxophone of your sweet serene voice, it’s echoing melody flows
Whenever I remember you - tenderness, onto the cheek it throws
This warmth in my chest floods and spills through my prose
Infusing jasmine with longing on my chest, sticking to the scent of these clothes
Hearing her in the song of morning birds and the glanced smell of a rose
Oh that delightful flower of hers, the sweetest fruit on earth
That seemingly causes death, but oh so, so much birth
No mortal can lift the spirit to such sight
What loving you tends to do in one night
It’s from الله
