Poetry

Before it

A malediction of what’s not meant. 

The moon chased after the sun before he could make her stay,
But it turned into a lonely night before day.

The rainbow cheered the cloud up before he teared,
But it turned  into a furious thunderstorm before it cleared.

For if the solemn utterance and solicitous deed is intended for love to be known and felt by the need, 
Then, there won’t be beauty before it. 

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