Come Back To Me

The Ink Bottle sits, alone, It’s only Companions, The Feathered Pen, The Paper Pad. The Desk, once alive, The Words, No longer, Written. Love, abandon, But wanting not, The Freedom, It has. A Wooden Chair, dusty, Reclines not, For the Comfort, Once given. Time, a mystery gone, With passing, Never to be recovered, Longing. Days of gloom, waiting, Shine not, The Light, The Heart, Once brightened. Come back, to Me, My words, of Joy, Of Laughter, Wisdom, once known.