Drop me a line immediately when you arrive
I want to know everything, every waking and dreaming
thought you had.
It is all about me, of course.
Our hearts thump in agony.
The letter will travel some time.
We’d say that waving our goodbyes
at the train platform when the engine
would send us different ways.
I’d go home solitary and sad.
I’d sit in the compartment warmed-up, slightly nervous
and sad.
Always sad.
For the words would reach you much, much later,
Giving you and me time alone
to daydream and get deeper in love
or chat with friends
and get deeper in love
or do no matter what and
realise you or I need to wake up.
Wake up!
But not before all the tears and sweats and thrills
have been spilled and spent
not before all tiny fears and worries
have grown into monsters
or dwindled into dry seeds good for nothing.
Wake up
when you’re ready.
The letter will travel some time.
**
© 2020, forestlove
**
Snail Mail, or the normal traditional post, is what I chose for a topic of my poem for Day 17. Poetic Asides requested “an exotic” poem, and NaPoWriMo.net prompted us to write about “forgotten technology”. Well, I was a great lover of letters, and I still keep some of my teenage penpals’ post with me. It was so amazing to get your post and read about events, ideas, tears and excitement that happened to your friends. I’m not sure what and how I would be, had I grown up in this digital world where instant messaging is almost obsolete now, when the live streaming is the true reality. Hm, I don’t care. I’m glad things occurred as they did.
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