Regal Pergola (4)
Neglected in that chill,
it might die
A wondrous thing.
Inhaling, exhaling
a flimsy skin.
A stern, though,
A sturdy fighting soul.
I rescued him,
I fed him too much milk.
Over days,
over weeks,
He sniffed my hands.
I nursed him,
Watched him
maturing before my eyes.
Blooming,
like its shining
marble shades,
My pergola.
He was different.
Unlike the grayish cat,
Roaming neighborhoods.
Casting bad spells on me,
To sway dreaming journeys.
Blending dark brown,
Twisted rays of murky green.
Colors I have seen
gushing from my fountains.
I made a lovely place for him.
I built him a wooden home.
I named him "Shahlan"
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oldmedina |
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