Notes from a Time Traveller by Elke Stevens

You read my last request, it was always written.

In my heart the moment never past, in my mind I’m writing a request.

Be here with me, it’s a feeling, but it’s the winter season with a cold wind.

The words are writing again and again, they have no drama.

Not the words of wisdom, nor the words of wishes, no words at all.

Like you I feel, like you I breathe, like you I care, like you I love, like you I’m not.

Sometimes, I think of you, a haven for a free spirit full of freedom and love, I think of you and I feel the winter season, I think of you and I’m full of warmth and love.

The words can never be written, for what significance have the words I write if they don’t hold the truth.

But how do I put the the feeling I don’t know in words? And would you ever understand? That sometimes words can’t express the feeling.

Who am I, to tell on how I feel, when words cannot express.

You read my last request, it was always written.

I’m waiting your reply,

yours sincerely, “I miss you mom”.

07/12/2019 T.B. Stevens ©