The known aroma of a tangerine in jaded palms resisting to defuse it's goodness to this house of unforeseen memories .
Rossy wet cheeks from windy emotional drizzle does good , for I can escape the pigeons from spoiling the garden of love .
Watching the garden with saggy eyes on my soft poetry hours of tea time at 5:30 pm ..
And so far I know , my absence could be the only revenge to the world that you live in .
A cup of unsweetened cold coffee and a tangerine don't go together, as I don't match the moody weather of this old town .
And the touches of my art that verily gives you dare to hope ..
To eventually build you as the lucky one .
{M} .