Every night the sun goes down
And the stars come alive,
I re- read the letters sent
Adorned with a romatic scent.

Every time the night lacks the moon
And the Cold is unbearable like that of June,
I reply the letters; my back bent,
with astab of pencil lent.

Every night the skies turn grey
And the stars are hid,
I curse that fateful day
And what I did.

But as so long as you are happy
And my son too,
As so long as you wont marry
Until I come for you,

I will bare the pain
To see you again.

From
Abwova.