I know, you have so many obligations:
The family, the office, and your friends
call on your time enough to try your patience.
Saturdays, Sundays, all too quickly end.
My case is just the opposite, that’s plain.
Days drag on loitering outside my door.
My sleepless nights are run through by a train,
which you won’t be arriving on, once more.
I’m glad: you have a loving wife, kids, even
a chalet with a lovely river view…
Forgive me. Age, too, misses hugs, once given.
Loneliness makes one sad, that’s nothing new.
Your apple tree is rosy-blossom smothered,
breeze blown, its petals, butterfly-like, flit.
Give all my love. Drop a line to your mother.
Come to stay. Even for just a bit.
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