Why don’t you have a place for me in your heart?
Is it like this now or it’s been so from the start?
I wish you could see, see what I see.
This place I have in which no other can be.
There are no wishes left to make, no places to see.
If only one didn’t suffer or merely to a tolerable degree.
My heart is very secluded, as there’s no one but me.
A sojourn is treasured, both, my heart and I, agree.
A visitor as such I wasn’t but was mistaken into being.
Hopes for an eternal stay, in any event, seemed fleeting.
Your visit will last forever, come here with me and sit.
After all, what is a heart without a place for you in it?
For my solitary reader.
