I guess I’d not written
when maybe the ink
doesn’t get to the paper
Or my words cannot join
the air between you
someone who might
be there.
There was not a letter
saying I’ll see you..
as though we were
lovers still.
It would be a
holiday truly
Were you
at the large table
to stay.
With no other
word for love
there’s nothing
left for my letter
to say.

RLB 03/03/2021