Don’t tell him I’ve written this
Thinking only of him.
Don’t tell him he’s important
To me, like a limb.

He isn’t the wind to me
He is more like the air.
Something constant, and needed
That I can feel everywhere.

Don’t tell him he’s on my mind
Every day and night.
Don’t tell him I wish he was here
To always hold me tight.

Don’t tell him I wrote this for him
Nor how long it took.
Someday, hopefully, I’ll be with him
And he’ll read it in my book.