PEN PALS
I flip the pages of old letters
Across a dark ocean
Paper yellows, black ink pen fades
Words a blur, like the fog that hovers
Memories endure

She lives massive waves away
Fresh letters are crisp
exuberant, adventure, secrets
Just between us, in the clouds that pass us by
Mail is sluggish, boats ply rough waters
I await, my heart flutters, as an envelope
Flings through the mail slot
I slash it apart, pieces fly in the slight breeze
Impatience to read, her news is like the sun’s reflection on the sea
Her new boyfriend, budding romance, sensual stars
New spring clothes, picnics in the freshly cut green grass

I reply forthwith, though my words, are slack and drab
A glass half empty, all the same routine
As seasons come and go, naught of change
I compose words made from dreams and moonbeams
So, it will ensure our constant write

The last letter appears
My intuition bespeaks of evil tidings
She has taken ill
Scribble words in the main, blur to my eyes
I surrender a slice of my soul
Yet keepsakes survive