A knock, ever so faint
upon a door of oaken hue.
Numbers fading, yet still
revealing a place where
he resides.

A creak upon a wooden slat,
aged beyond the years of
he who resides. A calling
card, so to speak. Left
countless times before as
that ever so pointed but
timid sound alerted his
raised brows.

Through the postal opening,
a letter, somewhat weathered
as though having traveled the
corners of the earth.The flap
partially sealed, keeping the
mystery of that which was
within.

His heart skipped a beat upon
the knock, another upon the
squeak and fluttered
anxiously at the sight of that
which surely had touched him
once before.

Only she would send a letter
in an envelope which had
the aged look, half open flap.
She never would wet the
envelope well enough.

Combined with the fragrance
that had wafted across a
hardwood floor, climbed the
sides of a worn recliner,
circled once around his quill
and ink jar.....finally landing
square upon his nose.

Reclining backwards, savoring
the morning dew.Seeing her
in his mind’s eye.He falls
asleep, dreaming of her as she
walks slowly across the room.
Until......startled again by the
creak and squeak....he awakes.
Looking toward the door, seeing
a letter, the same as before.Except
this time....it was sealed with a
kiss.