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This Person
There was a person I could not visit,
That outside of dreams I craved.
A person that transcended thought,
To whose memory I became enslaved.
Because lapsed time had given me,
Thoughts that bound me hard and fast.
I was left to ponder things about her,
If she were a dead hand of the past.
I recalled the few seed I'd planted,
Praying God's word in her would grow.
That He'd sent another to water this seed,
And if it sprouted, somehow I'd know.
Then one overcast day to my surprise,
Her posting which housed the clincher.
From this brief letter our lost was found,
And launched anew, friendship's adventure.
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