In the palette of words, your praise blooms,
Each one a vibrant blossom, chasing away gloom.
I miss them like the sun misses the moon,
When time comes, it comes, like petals in full bloom.
In the symphony of language, your accolades sing,
Each one a sparkling note, on hope's wing.
I miss them like the desert misses rain's repair,
When time comes, it comes, without a care.
Your words, a tapestry, woven with care,
Like a rainbow after the storm, vibrant and fair.
I miss them like the night misses the dawn's glare,
When time comes, it comes, without despair.
So let your kind words be like gentle rain,
Each one a blessing, washing away pain.
For I miss them like a flower misses the plain,
When time comes, it comes, to reign.