I miss the cinema’s comfortable sofas
At the entrance and outside the screen rooms.
I miss sitting on them, curled into you, ‘cause
We were kids and had nowhere else to go.
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Indeed, one also misses to read more poems like this one here. What were life without its beautiful lasting memories that carry us across the daily travails?
Forget the form of this piece of writing. In fact, it may be a flaw in presentation of this piece. There is no fault to be found here in the content of this writing. It is one of the very best I have read. This is not poetry. This is poetic prose. It is the highest form of prose writing. Its better than poetry. GW62
These are definitely not Amy Carmichael, the missionary poetry