The Romance of a Letter

letters

That sense of wonder

has she, did it reach,

will there be another.

 

Oh to honor the parchment

of love in its antiquity

the eyes we well in a lament.

 

I could wanting my pen

speak in clear word

how is true my love then.

 

In some forever rhythm

the ink is laid

and the imagined him

 

whose blood and soul do

hold favor to her smile,

eyes that might find true.

 

Oh to find the true blessing

in words of a scrawl,

forever binding, always living.

 

When last I spoke I wrote

in a flash pages fill

with all my love so remote

 

yet here swoon in the quiet of a silent

peace fashioned a style not so ancient.


picture – pinterest

Jane – story # 2

This story is meant for you, and I wish you were out there because everything I say, you will know, and I would be so happy to find you again. Jane is her real name. Story # 1 is a play on words, call it a non sequitur of love.

i met Jane in college. She was this elegant woman who walked across campus alone every day. She walked home from school, I didn’t know where she went once she crossed the street while I stood at the bus stop. She wore green rain boots up to her calves even when it wasn’t rain. She had jeans and a pullover with a waist long jean jacket and a scarf. A stocking cap and a pensive expression carried her past me about a block away every day. One day a friend of mine at the bus stop, said that would be the girl for me, you’re both kind of artsy. I had a lot of respect for my friend so for her to say that to me, I was extremely complimented and happy.

So I began to look for Jane at school, it was a small school, we weren’t too hidden from each other. One day I was in the library and she sat with a magazine directly across from me, and we looked at each nervously for about ten minutes, paging through our magazines having no idea what the contents were. We were just watching each other. She got up in a few minutes and walked into the stacks to study. I stayed in my chair, and realized I needed to ask her out. In a few minutes I walked the stacks found her cubicle and introduced myself. I did actually stumble as I walked up to her – perhaps that helped.

We spent the next six months at her place – her dad worked in town, the house was always hers – we took walks together, and made love in the afternoon sunlight. We never consummated our love making, we did everything we could possibly wish to but didn’t have intercourse. I felt strongly at the time, if we did, I would need to marry her, and I was 21, and scared.

One day we took a walk in a normal part of the wood. We aimed for a meadow we would always find one another in and make love. She was a lot of steps in front of me, so I anticipated her being there – but she wasn’t. When I got there, I noticed she was a couple of blocks away and walking into our local fairgrounds park. I found her in the bleachers crying. She actually said to me words that I would hear twenty years later – Is this all there is – we stayed together though for two more years.

One day we skipped school the entire afternoon. We went to a local car lot and took a brown Volvo wagon for a test drive. The owner was a family friend, so we kept the car for six hours, we made love in it, and we talked about buying it moving to California. We drove around school like we were really something. I won’t forget that day.

We eventually broke up. One afternoon while laying together in her place, I ran my hands along her jeans and said they fit her so well, and she said yeah, she had been wearing them for eight days. I’ve written about those jeans. I’ve written about her. She was my first real love.

We separated and I heard she was going out with another local guy I knew. He was good man, I was happy for her. One of the things we agreed to do was write each other letters. This was long before internet. We’d write a letter and it would take a day or two to get to one another. They were beautiful letters. I still have hers, I hope she has mine. She had a long gravel road to her home from the mail box. She would read my letter on her way back so she could be done before Bill would see the letter. She told me he didn’t like the letters, and she gave me a smiley face to let me know it was ok.

We moved to separate cities – and we continued writing. One day I wrote her a letter and asked her to move to Minneapolis, and she scathed me – ‘how could you possibly think I would just pick up and leave?’ I never wrote her again. I think she wanted me to convince her, and I was too scared. I took it the wrong way. I would have a penchant for misreading signals the rest of my life.

If you can see this Jane, just know my love for you is nostalgic and filled with a sweet romantic memory. I do hope you are well.

When There in the Moment

cafe

At first glance

I knew immediately

how could one not

recognize whom we grow to love

when confronted

by their reality.

 

She was looking forward,

I felt safe

if only, sheltered,

let my hand rest on a chair

nearby,

we could hear one another breathe

if she knew I was there.

 

I imagined to myself,

if this is real,

she will know I’m here

turn around

smile or walk away,

I let a dream happen in my mind

years ago the same

occurred.

 

Yet today is

was

different

her confidence in posture

seemed unreachable

seemed meant

for someone else’s touch,

their arms, lips, eyes,

I was afraid to move.

 

I then stepped backward,

quiet,

the silence was a weight

I could not overcome,

I felt the emotion

of taking risks,

of looking in one another’s eyes

and knowing

we could not

though desperate in our passion

we could.

 

Moments later,

a stroll down the cobblestone,

I found a new cafe,

settled in outside

still she was in my mind.

I took one sip of a

fashionable latte,

then,

I looked away.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

for Zelda with love

 

photo – Pinterest

So Many Remembers

There are days

upon waking

when as the sunlight slats

my life, my world,

when told we must begin,

I lay in bed in sweet recall,

oh it is another

remember when

her touch,

my fingertips

run along the scalp of her forehead,

only the real,

a movement, opportunity

to be with one another

having little desire

to move beyond just this

while finding eyes.

 

Oh I do have recalls,

the tears immediate

the results are always now

meant to be the same,

to find love

beyond the shadows

the real,

is a nostalgic remedy

to the loss

of some imaginative reality.

 

I remember when …

I remember when …

 

I wonder if when together our memory

is stronger when we wander

together in the quiet

hands touching

our minds thinking only this moment

when the forest is forever

our footsteps on the matted trail

the beauty of such

is what we once knew

love

is now a memory.

 

Perhaps it might be impossible to imagine

love can ever be lost

when we might find ourselves

caught up in a flurry

of

remember when

delight in passion meant a way

to erase a day

if only I might have

her

in my arms …

 

Remember …


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~