I'd give up my left arm to always be right beside her. My right arm for her to know she's what I have left and both arms to be able to hug her when's she away. I just don't think I have enough to give to get the courage to tell her when she's here.

I've always said that the older
The soul, the fewer times

The three ugly words
"What about me?"

Have been uttered from
The mouth it possesses.

I wish I could oil the gears
Of your self worth with my

Every drop of compassion,
But this sudden flash of coldness

In my gut is that of a factory
Owner worrying ever so slightly

About a new sound in old
Machinery within the bowels

Of the buried bunker where they
Manifacture my every set

Of
Sympathies.

Every day he saw her by the window
Never did she step out in the garden
Searching for something in distant land
Not aware of his presence as he passed by
Only the window to her outside world
He could read the silent remorse in her eyes
Colorful flowers bloomed in her garden
But never was she aware of the colors
She was a silent observer in another land
He could never breach the precinct of her world
Her eyes were never a window to her soul
Never lifted the veil which draped her
He could not stir any feelings in her frozen heart
The winter had never left her heart
An avalanche of sorrow engulfed her soul
Frozen in the past, not aware of the present
Searching for something in the distant land