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MYSTERIOUS WAYS
The haunting scent of Jasmine,
on a wild, tempestuous night,
reminds me of somebody,
Whose name I cannot write.
The white flowers on the vine,
they made me stop and think,
about somebody who loved to,
adorn them on her head.
The path was paved with petals,
I hated to trod on them,
Far away, long ago,
Soft cheeks caressed them.
Mysterious are the ways,
the routes I often take,
Like the encounter with Jasmine,
beside the silent lake.
