I’ve told this tale a thousand times,
You were in it time and again.
I’d capture you wholesome in rhymes,
I’d write you till I was numb with pain.
I’ve lived through papercuts and storm,
I’ve written you in blood and ink,
Your paper cheek has kept me warm,
I’d write you on my eyelids when I blink.
I wrote and wrote as time went by
And grow tired, I never did.
I’d write you till my lungs ran dry,
I’d write you till my fingers bled.
Copyright © Diana Dinca | Year Posted 2017