It was a summer of letters,
you there, me here.
The days of thinking slowly,
rolling words around
until they landed just right.
The days of ink to vellum
and a blotter for splotches,
hand heavy with emotion
or tear drops of missing.
And sometimes our words crossed
like a wind shift, dropping seeds
too early to be devoured or take root.
That summer of letters,
so many years and memories ago,
carefully bundled with dried lavender
tucked away in the back closet shelf.
Photo Credit: Alex Drahon
lillian the home poet 
Lovely & nostalgic! Emotions and keypads and screens just don’t cut it, eh?
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Exactly! 😊
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…..meant emoticons! 😟
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😊😉😳
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Hahahaha! I’ve got a piece on love letters of yore scheduled for tomorrow…. Keep an eye out, will you? Cheers!
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I will indeed!
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beautiful poem, the letters and the dried lavender evoke another age. 🙂
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Thank you, Melinda. So very sad that the “art” of letter writing is disappearing. I love stationery and still write to several dear friends….but I am so in the minority.
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you’re welcome 🙂 Yes letter writing is a lost art. One I lost years ago. Email is much quicker and I always need an answer fast, so…email it is.
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Lillian,
you have such a unique way of putting objects, emotions and thoughts together –
whenever I read your verse – I’m tasting, smelling, touching, feelings and seeing – and each sense, so very authentic
am:)
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AM —- thank you so much for your reply. Sipping my second cup here and smiling I am.
Stay warm, my friend! And enjoy your Sunday!
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You’re most welcome, Lillian. Two days of wrestling sectionals – a long weekend already:) ending it with chocolate will be divine:)
Stay warm as well, brrrr…..
Have a most bright and loving day!
am:)
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