Words will no longer come from you to me, <br />Handwritten from a land of minarets. <br />The imagery still lights my afterthoughts, <br />I wish you a long sunset, poet friend. <br /> <br />How strange the loss of letters matters when <br />We never met in ordinary life. <br />And yet, 'As always' is my signature. <br />I hope warmth travels safely without stamps. <br /> <br />My eyes look through the old panes of the soul, <br />Remembering work of threadbare elegance. <br />Perhaps such verses will survive your west, <br />Invoking dawn against a distant glass. <br /> <br />Copyright,2008, Sandra Fowler<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/1-afterthoughts/
