Longing

Spring creeping slowly,
all the darkest shadows
light to increase the
flee far away.

Longing to encircle again
the heart, the writer
lonely.
At night, often dream I see,
I am a small part of the space,
I'm flying free
morning before six.

Hazy night to encircle
a little heart,
a dull emptiness inside me
increases, the heat sensation
far further away.

Nights confess all
hope it does not comforted
ever morning to the beach
brings to me.
My heart loneliness,
it is a bottomless swamp.

Morning brings again
my lips the words light,
or heavy bowed weigh.
As writers we are
slaves torturous words.
I will write again
a comforting story.