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Chesapeake Bay

I started this note

somewhere in the middle

of Chesapeake Bay…staggering

upper deck on a ferry named Fantasy,

floating towards Foreverville,

your arms surrounding me

like a memory


My chestnut hair was wildly dispersed,

September chill on sky-mist stationary,

sticky tongue on the edge at the

crease of your envelope,

tendrils of curls crossing the t’s,

dotting the eyes…


When you set yourself to reading,

be apprised that the ink is still wet;

the paper is thin as lingerie lace,

and because you are beautiful,

the words have a transparent sheen


wherefore you needn’t rush,

as you never do,

to pluck the lovely letters.

They will fall away

like leaves in October,

and the passages will open

warm and inviting,

with every hidden meaning


    What do you think?

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