Messenger
I hold the gold tipped instrument
Pewter body warm
And reflect on the gift
Given from afar
Resonating memories
Of letters penned
In Royal blue lines
Conversations held back and forth
Across the water
As I Waited anxiously for weeks
At a time
Until the carefully penned
Response to my hen scratch calligraphy
Arrived, framing heart felt empathy
For our lives expectations
She, my copper haired muse,
Emerald eyed soul mate
Encouraged me to share
What I write
And the Pen A "Messenger"
Is the instrument I retrieve
To remind me to write
To share and to reflect
When before her,
I did not know I could
Feel Anything
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 466 times
Written on 2009-03-18 at 04:16
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