Seasons have passed
Yet she has not returned
His letters.
He still sends them,
Those letters of his,
In hopes that
One day
She will send one back.
She won't.
She can't.
One day
He will leave his muddled state of mind
And realize
She hasn't gotten his letters
The address he send them to,
No one lives there.
She's gone.
Being gone does not stop one from sending letters to their own loved ones,
As she has been sending her own
Slips of paper.
Tree Killer!
She writes
What use do those papers have,
whilst I am up here?
Just look up!
And he writes another letter
That blind fool.
If only he knew.
