The LetterA Poem by theopenbookThe Letter (that did not come) I wait every day, my eyes searching Searching for my heart yet to come And give me the news of my beloved So that I can give him his heart again. I yearn to smell the yellow parchment On which his hands must have moved To form words meant to be mine And to ask if I still loved and remembered. I wait day and night; I wait counting the hours And when each time I open my door My eyes see no sign of him. I wish I could tell him, the where bouts of my heart If only I knew where it is He came and then took it with him And now where he is, there it lives. And when the rains came and went And the winter danced behind it I no longer went out in the garden And my door remained closed. When the seen finally warmed my aching heart I all but wished it was you I sat alone and my hands empty And wondered if wishes ever come true. For I knew all your words I knew whenever I held piece of you And I knew someday you are going to comeback Stand outside and take me into your arms. Now I don’t know how long will it take? I wonder if I’ll be ever whole again All I can do is to wait, sitting in the garden Mend my heart while it breaks. © 2011 theopenbookAuthor's Note
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6 Reviews Added on June 14, 2011 Last Updated on June 14, 2011 AuthortheopenbookDelhi, Delhi, IndiaAbouti just love books because they help me to fight my loneliness:) more..Writing
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