Glassy reflection; O’ singing ocean,
Will you pass this whisper, to ever after?
Message in a bottle, just not on paper,
A litre of tears, a thousand tales.

One drop, for the way we are apart,
Another, the way we’ll reunite.

Let him be, at the other side,
But let him see, o’ glassy reflection,
But let him hear, o’ singing ocean.

~~~ About the contributor ~~~

Azalia Suhaimi is a photopoet of love, using her heart as a tool, combining both her photography and poetry works into a spectrum of emotions. An ultimate dreamer, and has participated in a few exhibitions in Malaysia and in Sydney, Australia where she studied Photography during summer (her favourite season). Her works are regularly published on her website at www.azaliasuhaimi.com.

But how do days not know of seasons?
Every second; a summer love.
Every step; a growing garden.

But how do my mornings sing?
Nightingales appear, a chorus begins.
The sun, shining; The river, flowing.

But how does darkness disappear?
The moonbeams call; and bright stars twinkle.
Our souls, loving; Our shadows, waltzing.

But how do I even begin?
The depth of your love; my blue skies.
The light of your love; my summer,
The poetry you whisper; my nightingale.
The way you’re next to me; my moonlit waltz.

~~~ About the contributor ~~~

Azalia Suhaimi is a photopoet of love, using her heart as a tool, combining both her photography and poetry works into a spectrum of emotions. An ultimate dreamer, and has participated in a few exhibitions in Malaysia and in Sydney, Australia where she studied Photography during summer (her favourite season). Her works are regularly published on her website at www.azaliasuhaimi.com.