Flown Away November 2009 He took his suitcase, His hanging bag, And a back-pack. He took snacks, A book, And a few card games. He took his laptop, His MP3 player, His camera – His phone, His wallet, His passport, And many other important things. And he took my heart. When he comes back, He’ll bring the things he had taken, But the clothes will be dirty, And he’ll have made some additions: Some photos, Some memories, And maybe some souvenirs. But all I want back is him – And my heart, which is trapped – Held captive by those brooding brown eyes.
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