WITH HER
Whenever I have my share of joys and afflictions, I turn to no one but to her. She has been very nice to me. She is more than a friend. Although she speaks nothing, I put her to a pedestal of an adviser, a guru.
She has seen me mature and evolve to a young fine man. Actually, I have no secret or any pretension with her. She has seen me bare naked. She has been there, from ups to flops, from cheers to jeers. She has observed my widest smile in my happiest moments and has helped me shed a pail of tears in my most forlorn reflections.
She has been my comforter for years. When I make something wrong, she doesn't scold me, she just listens to whatever I'm saying. She also has been my confidante. I share my illusions; and candid and sordid imaginations with her. She is a witness of my growth. She is a mute testimony of my individuality.
I don't know how to equate the silence she patiently and perfectly assembles. A delicately-woven blue cover perhaps will do. I know I'm making her happy because the little boy who used to dwell in cheerfulness continues to radiate the lessons of his experiences he unselfishly disclosed with her. I modestly love you, my bed --- my sanctuary, my haven of solitude.
Whenever I have my share of joys and afflictions, I turn to no one but to her. She has been very nice to me. She is more than a friend. Although she speaks nothing, I put her to a pedestal of an adviser, a guru.
She has seen me mature and evolve to a young fine man. Actually, I have no secret or any pretension with her. She has seen me bare naked. She has been there, from ups to flops, from cheers to jeers. She has observed my widest smile in my happiest moments and has helped me shed a pail of tears in my most forlorn reflections.
She has been my comforter for years. When I make something wrong, she doesn't scold me, she just listens to whatever I'm saying. She also has been my confidante. I share my illusions; and candid and sordid imaginations with her. She is a witness of my growth. She is a mute testimony of my individuality.
I don't know how to equate the silence she patiently and perfectly assembles. A delicately-woven blue cover perhaps will do. I know I'm making her happy because the little boy who used to dwell in cheerfulness continues to radiate the lessons of his experiences he unselfishly disclosed with her. I modestly love you, my bed --- my sanctuary, my haven of solitude.