Dearest

I have missed you but I know better
than to wallow in those feelings.
So I'm writing you.
I don't have much to say
Because my mind feels at a loss
at words through my hands.
I woke up early today
Even if I didn't have to.
I remembered the feeling
Of your warm body
In bed next to me on a cold morning.
I slept until I could sleep no longer.
When I woke I sat down to write.
Looking for words, reviewing thoughts,
Letting things pour out if they so wished.
There is music on and it is calm
And reassuring. We are not alone
Here and that has always been the case.
To reach out and touch one another
Is all any of us have to do.

Letter

Dear You,

I decided to write a letter because it seems like quite
the anachronistic thing to do these days. It must have

been utterly barbaric trying to communicate with one
another over long distances back when. I had to find

a piece of blank paper that I felt would do an adequate
job, and a pen that whose ink wouldn't smear all over

the page if my hands touched it. I still need to find an
envelope and some stamps; writing this is the bigger

task at hand at the moment. I can't imagine it was easy
to erase ink if you made a mistake, perhaps they would

just mail the letter off like that anyway. I have seen
those documentaries on the American Civil War

where they have actors read dramatic interpretations
of letters soldiers would write home. Did people

really write and talk like that? I suppose they did.
How did they understand what the letters were

saying? Some of that handwriting looked so elaborate.
Maybe they used some sort of interpreter. I couldn't

write or speak like that if my life depended on it.
I don't really expect you to write back, though,

it would be great if you did. I hope your family
is doing alright. I've missed having you around.

What a silly exercise this has been. To think,
people used to do this all the time.

Sincerely,
________________