my dearest

i have been drinking ling and hard

for fear that

i lost you.

miserable, i am inside

soft,

i fear that I don't much trust people

these poor souls

who'll prostitute themselves for their sons and daughters.

i miss my home waters

the furious Danube dashing through my blood,

the smiles that beam, homing to my soul.

it's a rather parochial and deeply embedded society

that I live in. the people

confused me with their warmth after trying to kill me

every which way.

how i miss you,

your long, endless locks of hair

your perennial leaves

decked with Roman tresses.

what am i supposed to say?

that i love these innoncent souls who hang

on every word i say

while I lie my pants off the fire

just to show how they

see only the package?

I don't know dearest,

but the news of your life

has lifted my spirits

and convinced me of your true nobility.