Abu Samra Rulz – the Architect of my Garden of Roses

ابو سمرة
Abu Samra Rulz - the Architect of my Garden of Roses

The heart beating…

The eye beaming…

Bread hug —

Velvet coffee meets the cup

prepared by his loving hands —

for me — his daughter, 

Abu Samra!


Sunny rays come through the door,

his vibe supporting the Lebanese cause,

Love rendered from Damascus to the globe.


Mornings start with the voice of an angel,


Midday vibrates with Arab Classics.

When diving into the realm of stars,

the TV set renders keynotes of Arab classics,

one day,

The Swiss Philarmonic,

the other day,

the timer is set to allow for the keynotes

to join him through the night,

Abusamra's got the vibe!

Day and night.


It's either Fahrenheit or Davidoff,

The Damascene Syrian must have Swiss blood

 I don’t know of.

ابو سمرة

An iris covered in eye silk,

My stay with him?

Honey and milk.

Abu Samra!


The balm of roses on my heart,

The past fuming in rosebuds.


Lost begone,

The rose releases Love.

In the infinite here,
I come from a Rose,
my sweetest Damascene Rose!








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