Hand written words speak from thy gentle heart;
Each scribed to stir my hopeless heart’s desire.
They echo all I feel though we’re apart;
A star-crossed love that destiny conspired.
I linger over each and every word,
The sound of your kind ‘voice’ restrains a tear
And as I clutch this folded letter’s worth,
You tell me that though far apart you’re near.
The scent of this worn parchment I inhale,
Each line I read then re-read to be sure
For distance amongst words does not prevail
My soul - though torn - can pain and time endure.
What cannot such hand written words inspire,
When I can treasure all my soul’s desire?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem