120th Letter
it is mid-January of my fifty-fifth year
your fortieth kindest poetfriend
a crinkly glaze & glitter of snow
adorns the dormant air-conditioner
the voice of your email strikes me
as gentle reprimand
your honesty is grace
I pace from room to room
in the velvet light of 4.25 am
pondering my Tuesday
with a mind both sleep-starved
and eager
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
Read 153 times
Written on 2024-01-17 at 10:32
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