Blue roses in a count;
One, dancing in the dream it will happen
Two, waiting for a show at night
Three, write an eternal story like; Sapardi
One, two, three happy is a must,
There will be mortal
But,
Flowers grow not too early though continue to be watered
When the distance come over
On the fourth count, do not be sad
Because, I am your lover
You are my beloved
Like the sun’s ouster
Like the waves in the ocean
Like the God to the Prophet
If there is no language in this world
You are the first language that I create in the count of the eternal verses of poetry;
By Salsabila Novma Alhakim (J1A016065) ❤️
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