*The Lost Friend*
The friend I thought, most close to my heart
To my surprise she is far apart;
I am always in her heart,
Still she never knocked my door.
I meant for the good of us but:
She took it for granted as a prestige issue.
I would be happy
If atleast now she probes into my heart!
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Comments about this poem (*The Lost Friend* by Queeny Gona )
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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