The Mirror
I am beginning for feeling another
When they often looking their face
on the mirror
of our yunior high class room both of us
are wonder of themselfes
Like picture of themselfes
they ask to themselfes
how beatiful and handsome
but we wonder to from any changes
from time to time
untill we are going home
When we are walking together
or riding our bycyle
on the long road of going home
the windblow to the leaf of 'asem' tree
on the verge of the streets side
full of song and joy
forget incensed to our algebra master
we pass through the sugar fields
the wind blowing on her black hair
and gesturing on the sugarcoat
poem by Prasetya Utama
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