(poems by Bianca van der Meulen)
Monday, December 19, 2011
When I Write You I'll Stop Seeing
I've been dreaming high and low,
looking about the face and sound of you.
Do you know the miles I thought,
walking of you? They sat many;
I never was. Stand now (please, love) to get to me —
I can't hurry much more waiting,
not for long.