She penned them all with longing
and sealed them with her kiss.
She reminded him of his homeland,
of the wind through the apple trees.
She asked him to be careful,
to make sure he’d be home again.
She shared her inner thoughts with him
the one she called her best friend.
She missed him every day he was gone,
thought of him into sleep every night.
Couldn’t wait to have him in her arms once more
and back from where he’d gone to fight.
She waited by the mailbox every day
always hoping for some of his news.
She savoured each simple word he said
though saddened by the sound of his blues.
She lived in her hope from summer to spring,
from snowy March to auburn September.
She held on to memories stubbornly
and knew she would always remember.
My love, she wrote, I miss you so,
though the days go past so very slow!
She told him of their children growing
building snowmen when it was snowing.
She penned them all with longing
and sealed them with her kiss.
She reminded him of his homeland,
of the wind through the apple trees.
She asked him to be careful,
though somewhere inside she knew…
… that when his letters stopped coming
he would leave her forever blue!
I found this in my drafts, written about a year ago, and I don’t know why I never published it. The image, as is the case with so many on A Glass of Bubbly, is not mine but was found on Pinterest.
A Glass of Bubbly 