Ken Cormier
_________________________________________________________________________________________
.....................................................................................................................music ../ writing../ radio../ bio ../ contact

 

THE LETTER I SENT

The letter I sent was not written in ink,
nor composed upon paper, nor dropped in a box.
The letter I sent was a mass of warm breezes that tickle the ear.
It contained all the sadness and joy of one day.
It remembered to say things that I'd never say.
The letter I sent was not witty nor coy,
nor beside itself, laughing or weeping with joy.
It conducted itself with respect and decorum.
It erased a mistake and made up for a lack.
The letter I sent was a fine winter's nap,
in a chair by a lamp
with a book in its lap.