Tuesday, October 8, 2013


I like email
But I love an old fashioned letter
A letter has
Of a color and design you may have chosen thoughtfully,
Whimsically, seasonally, topically
Or maybe just a sheet of lined paper ripped
From a forlorn notebook
Or an airmail sheet that folds into an envelope
And perfumed perhaps
With a hint of your fragrance
Speaking louder than words
Stirring fantasy and fondness
And a drop of your DNA as you tongued the seal and stamp
And affixed the saucy red print of lipstick to remove all doubt
Or maybe a waxen imprint
That holds your words so tight.
A letter has penmanship
With all the lines and loops that Mr. Palmer’s method taught
But evolved through time and use into your own distinct style
I could tell the letter was from you before it
Was even opened
Using a letter opener that my aunt gave me
Upon high school graduation.
And what pen to choose?  When pens mattered
And ink was drawn from wells or bottles and smudged and blotted
And perhaps the choice of color spoke beyond the written word
Red ink, blue or black teased or taunted the eye.
And then there was the box that stored the precious messages
Tied in ribbons or wrapped in rubber bands
That called for a reread to scan again for hopeful news
Or word that fluttered the heart.
Few perhaps will find a box of emails stored in dusty attics
Telling tales of love and adventures and sorrows
Reminding us of those who came before
Reminding us when the postman rang.


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