And one last poem for today, to celebrate a "treasure trove" of old poems I found on an old hard disk. Written seven years ago, addressed to (but not sent to) Kinga.
why won't you write me
why won't you grace me
with a few of your words
I'm not picky any words
will do, anything kind
I'll read and take in kind
anything warm I'll respond to
anything warm to respond to
I keep scraps of you as keep-sake
flakes in my memory to keep-sake
tiny hints of a smile to treasure
you don't know how much a treasure
you're to me, I don't know either
shall I forget or hate you
I can't choose either I don't know how much I
love you
but if I did I wouldn't miss you
and any reminders of you
like e-mail why is it why can't you
mail me sometime
you can't be so busy
that you don't have time in two weeks' busy
schedule to write just a couple of lines
have I scared you with my cowardly lines
with their affection are you scared that
I may love and care for you is that
the idea what is your idea
of me do you love me?
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