In the hospital

I would like to show you one of my first poems. At least it is the first one I saved from the bit cemetary. It is the only poem written in English – I wanted to try to use English though it is not my native language. Now I know that it is true what everybody is telling you: Never write poems in a language which you learnt as a second tongue. It does not work out. However, you do not have to take my word for it – read for yourself. By the way, the poem dates back to 30-Sep-2007.

A single call from you
would have meant so much to me.

A single smile from you
would have saved my day.

A single hint from you that you are in love with me
would have saved our friendship.

But you did nothing of that.
You just let time pass.
Thought that time would heal all wounds.
But some wounds heal only by a gentle touch of you.

You did not know that. And I cannot blame you for not knowing.

I should have told you that I wanted you to call.
I should have told you that I always enjoy your smile.
I should have let you know that touching you would mean my dreams come true.

– Thomas Prokosch