I implore here, forgive my lack of mirth
for at this corner of the earth
I am terribly solitary.
The few friends that I have
scattered across the globe
but of my solitariness let's not delve
for upon that matter I've lost hope.
I wish to convey here my missing
you all, my dearest companions.
You are my wild flowers, my laughing stream.
In this great forest of seclusion
I am the clouds crying, the winds sighing.
my da Vinci.
I miss watching you draw
and stealing them into my memory.
If you enter my mind, there is a gallery
of every which drawing of yours I ever saw.
Our mutual affection is a thing I ponder
when my days turn sombre.
I miss laughing myself silly
at your eclectic stories.
When with you my worries are far
everything brighter, madly funnier.
Our happy moments I play in my head
when my days feel dead.
Of you I've written too much of
thought too much of, seen enough of.
What I miss is your company
well perhaps not really, just maybe.
I sometimes wish you're nearer
so my cruel days feel kinder.
I am sorry if these lines cause you worry
but my solitariness is my own folly.
I've let seeds of gloom grow
around me, into great trees that loom
and estrange me.
In the shadows of these lonely woods
I walk, a stranger.
Note: It's nothing really, this is normal for me. I'm just a tad sad that I haven't really anybody to accompany me to "The Magic of Rumi's Poetry" tour next Thursday at the Love & Devotion: From Persia and Beyond exhibition (@Victoria's State Library). I'll just go by myself hopefully.