It's the beginning, of a new year,
A new decade, with the old us,
With minds, filled with rust,
Hearts, torn apart,
And the same old confusions,
Dear Mr. Darcy.
I start a new centenary,
With my rhymes,
And thoughts, that haunt,
Would you mind,
If I continue to write, to you,
Dear Mr. Darcy.
The journey starts,
On an isolated path,
With dreams, that light,
My heart, with joy,
Maybe, I'll join you, along the way,
Dear Mr. Darcy.
I've roamed too far,
Crawled, when I can't,
Smiled, with a broken heart,
Stayed strong, ran fast,
Just, to kneel down and cry,
Dear Mr. Darcy.
A considerable, space,
In my, mild heart,
Is occupied by you,
Is it alright,
If it remains the same, forever,
Dear Mr. Darcy.
One thing I hate,
Is to be a pain,
If I was so, to you,
Please forgive me,
I assure, never again, will I be a pain,
Dear Mr. Darcy.
Along with this been said,
Maybe, until someday again,
Covering you with my daily prayer, I sadly remain,
With the confusion stuck in my head,
Is it alright,
To think of you,
Dear Mr. Darcy.
-Debra R. N. Ludwick-
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