My love for you is ink stained—
green, when i planted thoughts of you
purple, when you were my king
blue, when i thought you were my sky
and black, when i was over you
…
My love for you is ink stained,
validated by the waiting paper.
if a man should love the world
and lose his own soul
then I am a lost case…
for I am in love with the grass
on my bare feet,
the stately trees around,
the sea reflecting beauty of the sky,
and the warm sun hugging my body
and I thank God I’m a woman!
I wrote a letter once
for a friend who is hurting;
Twice, to a brother departed;
And even more times
for strangers disheartened.
I laced beautiful words
in comforting tones
beneath stoic guises,
To that unfeeling paper
of impoverished depth…
Lost in impoverished depth.
Gently, I wrapped them,
white against my cold hands;
neat packages of love—
These letters.
They always ended with:
“Répondez s’il vous plaît.”
And yet I never sent them.
I pray for my thought
may it be of good;
however wrought
in solitude.
I pray for my words
to speak of grace —
encouraging words
and not disgrace.
I pray for my actions
to better my verbs;
driven by passions,
devoid of blurbs.
