Notes About The Poem
This is poem #12 in my collection "Love Letters to a Stranger"
Love Letter 12
It bled its way through dreams,
With conviction too real to ignore.
It bled as marks on the page,
In the places left to explore.
It breathed with me, and stuck -
On the lips as words departed.
It was the messenger and the parcel,
It was the passenger and the plane.
It was the cutting winter winds,
Who defend the starry sky.
It was the rain and all its thunder,
And the moonrise and the eye.
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