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Poem: Untitled Poem 


the box on the closet shelf
above the denim shirts
and assorted well-worn pants
once the home of a new pair of Rockports
now serves as repository
for letters from the Indiana lady
we knew each other many years ago
when we were young and innocent
though time has worn us down somewhat
but not enough to stop the hearts that want to share
what’s left of us
she writes about her children
and her children’s children
and lets me know about the rain
and sunny days and flowers in Indiana
I’ve learned she quilts and choirs
cooks and bakes and talks about God
Who holds her sister in His hands
while He waits for her
but most of all
I enjoy the sentences not written
where she and I share the space
and understand the silence

Speaking of...

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