Her Own

Nothing new seems to pass by me.

Only few occurrences surround me.

Nothing to make me feel desperate,

Nothing to make me feel longing.


I close my eyes to feel alive,

So tightly, I look upon another life, one not mine

But sweet and innocent, like an old wine.


There is a letter waiting in the city,

Miles away from me, and I am a bit silly

For I go, despite the troubles that it may bring me.


I yearned for a month

To hear from you again

Through paper and pen, an ink so blue

It reminds me of how our love is so true.


Words written so carelessly, but my emotions enthralled.

I smile, and my heart beats faster

In a way I do not understand, but accept overall.


A letter filled with poetry written by you

Who would have known, that I would travel like this letter once did

Filled with teachings of love, to see you


Shooting awake I see nothing new that passes me by

Nothing that could ever amount to her own

For only a few occurrences surround me

Here alone in my home



This poem is about: 
My family


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