My Dear Rishi,
After our long talk few weeks back, we have not been able to talk for more than fifteen minutes at a stretch since then.
I came across another poem few years back by Emily Dickinson called, "Hope" is the thing with feathers.
After our long talk few weeks back, we have not been able to talk for more than fifteen minutes at a stretch since then.
I came across another poem few years back by Emily Dickinson called, "Hope" is the thing with feathers.
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
By Emily Dickinson
"Hope" is the thing with feathers --
That perches in the soul --
And sings the tune without the words --
And never stops -- at all --
And sweetest -- in the Gale -- is heard --
And sore must be the storm --
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm --
I've heard it in the chillest land --
And on the strangest Sea --
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb -- of Me.
That perches in the soul --
And sings the tune without the words --
And never stops -- at all --
And sweetest -- in the Gale -- is heard --
And sore must be the storm --
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm --
I've heard it in the chillest land --
And on the strangest Sea --
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb -- of Me.
Rishi, every weekend I live with a hope that I hear your voice, talk to you forever, be part of your life, I have already missed out so much and everything else fails, this hope sustains me and keeps me going that one day we will be together. I love you very much and miss you Rishi.
With lots of love, hugs and kisses,
Daddy
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