My hands
work away.
A willful slave
to what I create.
I step back
at the end of the day
to see what I have made.
It is a love letter.
I wake,
long before the day.
Clean my body,
wash off the decay.
And when I look in the mirror
the face that looks back says,
it’s a love letter.
I know the pain,
the fears we can’t escape,
the uncertain moments
that try to overtake
our minds every single day,
but they’re just love letters.
I leave these little notes for you,
hidden from view,
until the time is true.
When I am called home,
etched into my bones
will be another love letter
for you.
DJR – 2023
