I remember,
Wrapping myself in a warm blanket,
On a cold starry midnight,
Asking myself,
If by any chances,
You are missing me too.
I linger on that thought,
For an hour,
And I convince myself,
That it is just a dream,
Because I am afraid,
Of believing the opposite.
A cup of coffee stays by my side,
Being a company to a lonely writer,
Night like this,
I often think of you,
Of how your existence,
Brings too much happiness in my life.
(n.m)
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