Longed For Warmth
In twilight’s hush,
a postman placed a violet envelope in my hands—
grape-purple, whispering of royal secrets,
its seal a shimmer of hidden magic.
I broke it open with trembling care;
a white page gleamed inside,
its words in purple ink,
a script beyond my understanding.
Yet meaning rose like starlight:
a princess revealed in the grace of her hand,
longing for my warmth,
her message wavering between silence and desire.
But what use is a summons,
if the words are swallowed whole,
devoured by the very skin of paper
that carried them to me?
Do princesses ever love peasants?
Do they scatter love in indecipherable riddles?
Do they bind longing in codes none can break?
And yet, the envelope whispered my name and address.
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