by Elena dal Friuli

Created on: July 31, 2010   Last Updated: June 05, 2011

I am only a brief sentence
In your book of life,
Yet in mine, you take up chapters
With material that is always rife.

Such discrepancy is unexplained,
As I try to figure out the why.
Still, no answers come to me
And I wish that you were nigh.

When I close my eyes at night
You often come to me in a dream.
I can't recall it when I wake up
But I know the feeling makes me beam.

So, I write letters you will never see
In hope that, by sharing my impasse,
I will soon find a way out
And enjoy peace, at last.

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