Old Love Letter

My Dearest Love,
 
I miss thee, my love with every passing day. Myn herte  is in the webbe of longing and yearning for thy sweete presence. I yearne for thy gentle hands and embrace oh so warmly.  Thine hands touch and kisses fair, are dug and planted as dragon seeds within me, to grow, nay, to burste into mine beating herte.
 
The skies abovee is devoid of colours, my love for without thee my world is graye, devoid of breath or air, of which I could breathe and inhale thy scent.  
 
Away from thy presence, for thou art in this quest so far, from thee each moments passeth as an eternitye, thus I count the houres that thou returneth and  the world  turn again.
 
The paine of separation sought me in  myne dreams. My herte beats as I heare thy voice, and I see thee walking in the soft glowe of moonlight.
 
It soothes myn restless soule, I am left with naught by thy  memorye  and of  thy tender kisses.
 
My love remaineth unwavering and steadfast, as the tides ebb and flow and as the sunne riseth and setteth.  
 
I holde thee close and carrye thy love within the depths of myn soule.
 
Thine,
 
Grace