Lily of the Valley

In this distant place,
no sound of you remains,
morning grasses soft whisper
under my light feet,
feeling of dew drops
touching my skin
I looked into the drop-ball
as if a mirror to another self,
it wasn`t me, but the Lily of
the valley fairy...
The sound of many bells,
repeating your name between
the leaves and flowers and wind.

:: n.nour ::
:: 23.feb.014 ::