Wall Shelf in Morocco

Somewhere in Morocco, when I

Was young, I found my past.

Hiding behind arches and nooks,

Hiding from curious eyes.

The history of a tale long gone,

But not passed. A story about us,

A story with no time. In Morocco,

I saw you, standing by.

A wall shelf, holding by a nail,

Like our youth.

We too, standing in a wall shelf,

So young, so alive.

In Morocco, before the future

Came rushing by, I saw you.

Standing by a wall shelf,

In the dying night.

A wall shelf holds from a nail,

And holds our story. And we

Walk forward, silent, under

The Moroccan sky.

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