Writing poems
on a great night,
in a life
were he puts up a fight.
Sitting at his desk
in a slumber,
words racing through his mind
in a large number.
He goes back in time,
and he remembers when
he could so easily say, "she's mine".
Looking at the photograph next to him
he sits there and wonders,
how long has it really been?
The door bell rings
And he hopes it her,
but when he opens the door
he vision becomes a blur.
