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
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