If...

If I could write poems…

They would’ve been all about you.

If I was a storyteller…

All stories would’ve been for you.

If I could write songs…

They all would’ve praised you.

If I could paint... 

My hands would only draw you. 

If I could’ve whispered to the wind…

It would’ve been your name.

But sadly, I am none of them.

And my heart knows nothing. 

So, here I am pretending to be all...

I am writing this to you. 

Only in this hope that it reaches to you.

In this lifetime or the another…

I’ll wait…