Fars

When I will go away
I don't know what to do
For when I'm without you
I wonder every day
If you're doing OK
And what you're going through.
I know that you are true,
So that isn't my way:
I worry rather more
About your heart, like mine
Which might be rather sore
When we are far apart.
I'm sure we'll both be fine
But still it tugs my heart.