No Tittle

I actually write this poem to this special person but as what
she feels it is not enough to be called as sonnet. It lacks few
lines to be called as a sonnet

Years proceed bestowed ones age
Proof to endure so firm thou stand
Thy feet took steps thee stance in land
Time proceed not ever in mind

For seasons advanced, run so blind
Lift oneself up don't fall behind
Such strong person thou lives inside
Let it go, let it break the line

I stopped for a few minutes after writing this poem in a piece of paper. It is just a simple gift, a simple gift for a special person. However time and the universe give enough reason for me to judge her from top to toe, i mean from bottom and on the top of her personality. Not entirely, but the pieces of the ideas makes one firm judgement, a rational judgement that the person whom i expected more to understand a "weird" personality is a lies.

Maybe the chances brought me on that point where i have to think if she is good enough for me, or she is just immature enough to be judge accordingly. There are a lot of things, maybe a lot of speculation around that situation of mine mostly negative. Expectation didn't kill it is the feeling of letting go a person that you're attached as you write this creepy novels and poems only dedicated for her.