Poezja

The garden of my heart
is empty when you are gone
and its as if every plant
that I have in it does perish
 
and although
I do give great care to everything
something essential is missing
 
and I bring everything to inside
and wait like a winter
on a new beginning
 
and it is as if the sun is away
and as if the frost
does extend deadly cold fingers
while you are missing.