ameriKKKa's Most Hated Muslim Poet
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Without touching a pedal
My senses know it is you my Rose,
Without casting a glance,
Your sweet fragrance awakens my nose,
The sun yet to have arisen
My passions you imprison
As you open your garden's gate,
I have no desire to escape,
The hardness of my metal melts
Mercurically into the
Alluring softness of your pedals
As morning approaches,
The night becomes less dim,
I become tied to you like a vine entangle
About a flowers stem,
Then forms the morning dew.

Abu Lateef


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