In search

Number 2 of 3
of English poetry
for my international friends

lost in far-stretching plains
we hunt for a helping hand
“let’s choose to disbelieve,” I boast
she shakes her head silently

I can tell her heart is melting
but she beams with ice cold eyes
as I run my fingers through her hair
and mine too, desperately

“read my lines,” I encourage her
“read what’s written in between”
but as the dusk she fades
and only mutters quietly

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