Fantasy,,,

Wet eraser spells gaze at me
Each chant bounces macapat saddle
Like a conscience
that was conveyed to me,,,,,

Your love always I miss
you are always present dreaming
a dream so real to me
wants you to come back
I always expect you to be present
accompany me every day
accompanied this period of my growth,,,,
Even guitar sounds different
when my fantasy
Toward your recollection
Shakes that clawed,
gave birth to the tub
the poet is hesitant