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Poem by IRMA KURTI

THESE ARE NOT LEAVES

These are not leaves that the autumn
throws on my hair, my shoulders;
they are hands greeting me today
while I drag an old and heavy suitcase
that keeps the seasons we lived together.

These are not raindrops running down
my cheeks, but tears: so limpid and clear.

These are not puddles reflecting now my
face but rivers of thoughts and reflections.

Goodbyes always hurt; they leave you
bitter in the heart, even if, somewhere
out there, a world of magic colors waits…

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