I kept in touch with you a letter on a stormy day,
Words streamed like raindrops, then washed away.
Ink smeared with yearning, a story untold,
Each sentence a fortune, every mysterious a gold.
I poured out my heart on the page,
Admissions of affection, a quiet fury.
However, who might I send it to, when quiet wins?
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This letter remains where my fortitude falls flat.
Recollections wait like phantoms in the lobby,
Reverberations of giggling, the ascent and the fall.
I wrote each commitment, each fantasy that we turned,
But at this point it's a murmur, a race won't ever run.
The heaviness of these words, I convey alone,
A letter unsent, a heart went to stone.
In any case, in the tranquil, I track down comfort and harmony,
In the ink of my heart, may the yearning stop.
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