Resting Place

I saw you then, through the eyehole.

Purple jacket flung over a white night suit.

Hair messy, stubble on your cheek

Your eyes a mirror of your burning soul

I saw you then , the colour red

Passionate, urgent, anxious hands

Teeth biting down the lips to shreds

Brows furrowed with open dread

I saw you then, through the eyehole

Your worry a sign of love

Your eyes of passion

A gentle balm on my tortured soul

I saw you then, as I left my breath

Drifting away in time

My anguish, My pain, My love, My dread

Finally finding my peace in death.

My Red Post Office

Nestled in the heart of a weebit town

She sat smiling, satiated

Aglow with the blush of sundown

My red post office

Lost in an eternity,  of an era bygone

With her wrinkled wood windows

She shone out the soft sunrays of dawn

My red post office

Crowds milled around her, just walking by

With her boxy off-white doors

She waited, lips open with a gentle sigh

My red post office

I kissed the letter I wrote, on paper blue

Four folded in an package pink

And nudged the doors with the hinges askew

Of my red post office

Cause I love through poems, stories and folklore

With a golden nib and blue black ink

So I wrote his name and sighed some more

In my red post office

My love was waiting, wistful, alone

In a bubble of suspended time

For my dried tear drop, hugging the stone

Of my red post office

I stamped my love and kissed my goodbyes

Handed it to the letter man

Now each day I will soak in the waiting eyes

Of my red post office.....