It is strange to think, I haven't seen you since a month. I have
seen the new moon, but not you. I have seen sunsets and sunrises,
but nothing of your beautiful face. The pieces of my broken heart
are so small that they could be passed through the eye of a needle.
I miss you like the sun misses the flower; like the sun misses the
flower in the depths of winter. Instead of beauty to direct its
light to, the heart hardens like the frozen world your absence has
banished me to. I next compete in the city of Paris, I will find it
empty and in the winter if you are not there. Hope guides me, that
is what gets me through the day and the night. The hope that after
you're gone from my sight, it will not be the last time that I look
upon you.