Member Rara Avis
Hi. This will be my last letter.
I wish you'd written me back at least once,
So I could know what I said meant something to you.
More importantly, that you were okay.
I made a mistake,
Thinking I could write you once and set all things right.
Now, I wonder why you never wrote back.
Maybe you're on a long vacation?
I'm not sure,
But it hurts to know there are words out there
That will never be said, never be colored in
Except as ash for the fire.
Poetry is a hard gleaming scoop
To sift through the ashes, unpretty, exposed.
It takes so long to walk away,
And for a while, there are always footprints leading back.