You are my morocco...

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Morocco 

Enclosed in your room my mind

clouded Morocco – Sanded horizons

and deep heat pressed repeat and

tossed us through the night

and ever since those times

of a disguised routine

emerald fluid

I have been mapping my own path there

Where the language is strange

the air heavy with stares

the night low and warm and textured

with the rhythm that colours my blood

Rhythm that echoes ochre between her mountains

And lies as fine as flour on her planes

You are my mystique

You are my mould

You are my morocco

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