Two years
Since my fists pounded
On the figures of book characters
On my wall.

Two years
Since my fingers plucked
Monotonously at strings
As I let the melody fill me
And the tears course down my cheeks.

Two years
Since I dialed the phone
Repeatedly, searching, in vain,
For someone with whom, I hoped
I could share my pain.

Two years later,
My fists,
My fingers,
My cheeks,
Need not suffer anymore.

For I have found the ones
Who would answer my call,
And even though they can't replace her,
They help to cushion the fall.