A reply to you

The day we don’t talk,

For me the sun doesn’t rise,

The day doesn’t begin.

The sky appears colorless,

The flowers odorless,

Birds fly without twittering,

I find a lacuna in everything.

Time seems dull, nonchalant,

But prepared to throw me out of the world.

I don’t feel like living,

Feel like dragging myself from dawn to dusk.

I presume as if someone took the wheel of time,

From the morning and put it right on the evening.

Suddenly I see your message, read your words,

My day begins; I sit down to reply you.