Navyman

Today I found myself

pulling one of your letters

from the dusty shoebox

hiding behind wrapping paper and old yearbooks.

Slowly

Under the swinging lightbulb

I ran my fingers over the aged ink

gently--ever so gently

In the moment I was touching you

for the crease of the paper

was the ridge under your nose

and i traced it seductively

all the way to the edge...

Staring in between the letters

I saw us dancing--

our shapes twisting in rhythm

to the rise and fall of the words

once again

To me,

this paper will always smell

of time and regret:

of moments captured and caged,

forever.

Where are you now?

I think you would be amused to know

that our memories

live, trapped, in a shoebox

in my closet.

The following poem is a submission to Jingle's POetry Potluck.   Thanks for reading a have a great week!