To The Man I’m Gonna Love Next

To The Man I’m Gonna Love Next

March twelve two thousand seventeen

Here lies an empty page

An empty page

Waiting to be filled

Waiting for the touch of the ink

Now I am here,

Pouring some little touch of the ink

In this empty-no-more page

Waiting and wishing for the day

You too

WIll touch me

Just like the ink,


And say,

“I’m home”