Oh Ama,
Words cannot be morphed into my mouth,
to bring metaphors to paper,
in effort to reignite your memory,
Over a grave I have yet to cry on,
I crave your voice everyday,
When the day lays still,
and the clouds have seperated from the blue,
Adjacent to the deep black of the night,
I wonder what you see from your throne,
I still crave your voice,
The urgency to call you remains embedded in my hands,
In happiness I wish to share with you my grinning face,
In pain, I forget you were even there,
I have ridden you off as an option,
For the thought of you,
Underground with white cloth,
Is too obscure for the mind to understand,
You don’t cause me pain,
No,
Its the knowing that you were my wings,
and though I have shed, and fled from the nest,
you are who I want to go to,
noone else is an option,
they have all left my heart,
there is no saving them anymore,
When I cry,
every sorrow I have faced starts to flood out of my eyes,
as if a whirpool was to form,
and banish the bad out of those who hurt me,
I think of you often,
as my home,
across a phone,
language fitting in small mouths,
yet,
yours would leave with laughter,
your love saved me,
what a gift I got to experience,
How lucky I must be…