I find less and less to say to you with each passing hour.
The secrets once shared hang like frozen tear drops on your eyelashes.
To look with your eyes is to look at a new world of surprise and wonder.
Sadly my eyes offer me only the faded remnants of a crumpled newspaper. Black, white, and twisted out of all its integrity.
I crave the days when you’d let me look through your kaleidoscope of colours at a world ever-changing.
As you have grown distant from me, so the spring-like world becomes stunted and still.