Every day at twilight,
you arrive at my window, against the harsh winds you fight,
you drop the letter into my hands - making sure I've held it tight.
I do not know if this is childish, wrong or right,
but my jealousy for you has reached a new height.
Don't shoot the messenger they used to site,
but how can I only feel gratitude in return for this rite,
when all I want is to fly like you, underneath as the city glows bright,
fly till I reach where everyday you come from in the night,
and instead of you, it is me that he holds tight.
Just a lil one. How marvellous would it be if we could all fly and reach the person we want. As fun as carrier pigeons may be, they aren't the face you're yearning for!