Preface...

What a wonder it is that you might not have a single clue that someone somewhere, from the core of their heart, writes about you.

Maybe a secret admirer or a long lost friend, How you lie in the words of their poetry, in each phrase until the end.

In the notes and the journals In the depths of the pages, with every drop of ink, love has been buried for ages

They don't express their affection. Instead, get it down on the paper with bliss, and you might not have a single clue about it. What a wonder it is.

Theartist_nick