You Are Special

First we construct words: simple, complex, love-words. A game becomes real with every word, that starts to build a new poem: a fraction of life— in another life— here and there, far or close together. I wanted the night to come early— depending on words hungry for invention. I can't hear you, but words can say, a thousand times, that this voice was a part of you. I learn the blind silence, in steps of vowels, every morning— happy to be in another life, somehow, somewhere… You know you are forever special in my mind and soul. I love you. The cold spring comes early this year, with hope for flowers, windy songs of birds, and poetry.