F, F

I got your letter in the mail yesterday.

 

You told me —

 your feelings, your thoughts.

 your poems, your memories.

 

Included a photograph of how you look now.

I see your son, he looks just like me.

 

I wish I hadn’t moved so far away.

I wish we didn’t part.

I wish for so many things.

 

We could forget, we could forgive.

But I don’t know if I could, with Franklin being there.

 

 

© 2008 David Greg Harth

08.12.04.01:38:17@130BklnNYC

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