Presence

IMG_20151122_164822_525
She comes to me

When I am alone, at night
And at day, when I am not.

She comes, and to me she talks
Often, when I am there
Often, when I am not.

She comes to me,
Knowing I love her, at times
Knowing I don’t, she appears in my sight.

She comes to me, half afraid;
Under the moon, bathed in the moonlight
And under the sun, dressed in white.

To me she comes
Stares into my eyes, thinking that I am lying
She looks at me, looking at me she smiles.

She comes to me, at times
When she knows not!
I hold her, at times, as she’s the one.

She comes to me,
To me, everything is her, her, her,
I paint her, I paint her, in plain, black and white.

She comes to me,
On Sundays, when I am tired
And she offers me rest, while knowing not.

She comes to me,
Now that her presence I can’t find
She stays with me… and she loves me!
(sometimes)

image by: Gurbuz Dogan Eksioglu

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3 thoughts on “Presence

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