We shared a pen as though a common voice,
For many miles did bar the touch of hand;
On sight of letter so did heart rejoice
As sure as gaining gifts from foreign lands.
I checked the post on nearly every morn
There all sweet joy presumed on paper white
And read aloud in tones to words adorn,
Your sprightly visage dancing in my sight;
As ways led to new ways and ardor waned,
The sun arose each day and birds did sing,
Thin bonds of ink that distance fairly strained
Seemed faded as wan visions they would bring.
It isn’t that I had no more to say
But simply that my life got in the way.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.