I write my words so that they mark time.

Their pieces and parts create a melody sublime.

My heart yearns for those letters,

The letters you wrote.

And as the air carries drifting feathers,

So do my words begin to float.

I aim these aimless stanzas to reach and caress your mind.

But I am just a person, not a writer, and in a world filled with art, I am blind.

My soul cries out for its long lost companion,

A companion seemingly all it needs.

Just like water can carve out an incredible canyon

My hope was planted, a patient seed.

Those words that drift through the air eventually all end up together

I tell them that it's been too long, the storm has passed and we failed to weather.

My hope here relinquishes the last of its influence,

An influence now old and now gone

But a companion's call replies as we sit in silence.

And so my hope lives on and on.