A Poem by Coyote Poetry
A letter in a sense.
My merciful friend.
I received your letter.
I was at my worst.
You kind words of love and devotion made me dream and have some hope.
I remember your gentle and sweet voice.
Your laughing brown eyes.
They make me feel content and safe.
I remember your long brown hair. I loved to roll your hair in my hands.
I remember caressing your long tan legs. Wrapped around me. Making me safe and needed.
Once I held love as precious as new-born German Summer wine.
Sweet and kind to the body and the soul.
With old age, the cost of love became more costly and less simple.
Tragedies of love can infringe desire for loneliness.
I found you when I was home on leave.
You held me like a ancient lover.
Allowing the barrenness of my mind and body not to
infringe on your goal to befriend me.
You told me. “We are obliged to be born and to die. We must know happiness
and some blessings.”
In your eyes. I fell into your spell.
You kissed me once, than twice.
Easing my pain and hope begin to swell.
I accepted the kisses with joy.
The paradox of love is fair.
The interweaving of people to create reconciliation when the heart can come alive again to endeavor
into the dance of love.
I write this letter with hope and love.
I yearn for the day when I can hold you and thank you for the gift of love my Dear Julie.