Don’t ask me how many times

I have come your way

knocked on your door

peeped into through the windowsill

to see if you would lift your head

I have often sung my heart’s content

chosen words that I thought you would like

set them to harmony and let them out

in my not so soulful voice

just for you to hear

I have often picked a thought

loved it enough and let it grow

ripening it with care

and then sent it to the clouds

to reach to the corner of your heart

yet, friend I must say

they get lost, all my labour of love

in gusts of wind and storms of anger

in your rare indifference and your

happy carelessness, your obsession with self

my notes are trampled by your

single minded pursuit of your dreams

yet I send them in the hope of

a recipient somewhere in the universe

and the sky eggs me on eachday

being himself so vast and profound

he makes time to sit by and listen

and that gives me hope

a lot of hope and yes, a lot of love.