If you open this letter
on a late afternoon
warm, wet and ochre-
let this remind you
of a long winter left midway.
Where the earth curls up
ever-ceasing, ever-withdrawing.
Wait awhile,
for my love, unused to summer
recoils for a moment-
and in the next,
spills out, shivering and restless.
Let such inexperienced love
melt with that bit of visible sea.
This afternoon
let it melt-
into untamed accents, unknown roads.
A naked letter prays
and outside your window
summer breathes.
Let winter not touch you.
(Letters are a recurrent theme with me, a device I use quite frequently in my infrequent bursts of poetry. However, this was written because I needed to write a proper letter.)
