Wednesday, 17 January 2018

I do not tell her I dream of her
So often
She wouldn't want to know
On the eve of her birthday
I dreamt of
Cycling through the desolate 
country lanes to her house
The next day i forget to
wish her

I'm expected to
Over the phone or through a
greeting card.
We let in some silence in our
busy lives
And I never call.
I cannot tell her I dream of her
So often.

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