I am caught up in an imagination as I look at my dried jasmine flower
What is there to remember in me if I care too much?
I am I good?
I am I kind?
Love is a challenge that is spilled with pure potion of life.
I can hardly hear myself believe that I can care.
I was once great.
I was once strong.
I have nothing more to feel than my feelings at looking at my dried Jasmine flower.
I am dried up form hope as my jasmine but I still glow this bright yellow harmony of love.
I admire this bright yellow color from my dried jasmine flower.
Sometimes it is hard to be the only one that cares.
I am sad to believe that I am always there to keep a distance from love.
Love is the low temperature of my heart that cares in the silences of yearning.
I feel hopeless as I wait to remember the unmentioned quantity of righteousness.
Should I heal my despair unnaturally to care?
Oh, I am thinking of my jasmine flower.
My jasmine flower still glows life inside my book along with a dried leaf.
Copyright © Shamela 16/ July / 2012.