I like this day.
The 17th day, of the 4th month of the year.
I am thinking of you still.
I have been drunk the majority of today,
And that is more or so the truth.
But more the less, I am perfectly okay.
The flight attendant, she noticed my youth,
But she paid for my drink anyway…
I am the only “young one” in this booth.
The middle, it strays emptily.
But I am coming home today…
And I can only hope that I see you soon.
For it is you, who makes me swoon.
If only I could see you…tonight, or any day as soon.
You do not respond, to my dismay.
Here I am, upon the plane.
It is you who makes me sane.
For I’d rather write of you,
Than wait for you to…
Respond to my text of so excitement.
For it is only you who creates incitement.
I stole the crackers and the peanuts from him beside me
He hasn’t awoken, however, I wonder if he would blame me.
Asleep, asleep, sweet dreams does he keep.
And then there’s me, who won’t dare fall asleep.
For I will,
Keep writing poems…
Until I desperately reek of raw &
Until I know that you are mine to keep,
However, until then, your love will continue to move oceans.
From me to yours,
What more could I ask?
This is far more than a love fueled by mere task
Of me and yours and our love combined too…bliss is bliss
And I love you,
By: Evynne Doue