A Handwritten Letter

It had been ninety three hankering hours since we had last spoken. A little rift had set our bond adrift. This pacing evening, I heard a sudden drop in my front door mailbox. Thinking it was the wind, I didn't respond quickly. The sound of a shutting car door followed. It took minutes for curiosity's reach to cautiously retrieve an unstamped envelope with only my name inscribed on the front. With a careful tear of the lick trail and the crispness of this rare letter unfolding, my senses delighted in your unique imprint. I could smell your sloughed skin, with a whiff of your Old Spice cologne. I could almost feel your fingerprint ridges upon the edges. Your energy weaved throughout factory bleached fibers, each intensely pressed midnight line looping and riding on a mystery journey waywardly into my long awaited heart. Each jagged lift and dip likened to a pair of doves amidst their mating ritual, playing a game of tag and chase. I heard your tenor tone with each soothing syllable. Your yearning sang a sonnet of the reasons your heart stirred for me. Flatteries lifted me on floating wings and kept me soaring as you recalled all our pleasant experiences and apologized for our few misleadings. You pleaded that we would withstand misunderstandings and embrace each other's differences, connecting our opposing puzzle pieces to frame a work of art. I pictured the moment you passionately placed your pen upon the page. Perhaps you hovered over every word, crumbling up rough drafts. Perhaps your awakened emotions free-handedly led your whimsical words to perfection. Your intentions were clear and confident, certain of what you wanted, and I was sure, even before your passionate persuasion, that I wanted the same. 12-24-19