In the late night seasons of last evening –
(spring leaning upon a bit of summer)
you returned as you always do – in thoughts.
I would surprise you. I have grown strong.
It’s been one year since I moved the stream to
where you thought it should be. I built a pond
that drought cannot weaken. And the sea
is the sea – it gives, it takes as you promised
The sun tonight falls in a mask of black
leaves – the trees of fifteen years. Time,
it has taken. I have found no way to
build a fortress against it.
You can imagine my surprise when the
stream moved back to its comfort this
evening in torrents of tempest. I see you
I will put this letter with the others from
me. I will try to forget once again that
tomorrow doesn’t bring you.