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Debris

The wars have been waged.
A bomb fell the other day on my rooftop.

Nothing much was destroyed, except the flower pot that bore the
last rose of the season, and of course the room beneath it.

Why did I say nothing was destroyed??
A room, a big room was grounded to dust.

As I stood in front of that half shell of a room,
I saw how little I had sufficed myself with.

There was a bed, few clothes, a water jar
and a series of empty shelfs.

Except one. Where I kept all the love letters
given to me by all my past lovers.

and all the letters that I could have posted
to one of them. And I value both.

They didn't let me take the letters."You better
forget those letters and them. Run for your life."

I turned to go back. Some rose petals lay scattered.
The last of the season. The last you planted for me.
Amidst the dust.

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