My poem today starts at the end.
It begins with a letter I didn’t send.
She kissed my cheek then closed the door.
We departed as friends though I hoped for more.
Our morning was rushed and I left in haste.
My ship was sailing, I’d no time to waste.
A week then passed and her letter I received.
Perhaps her feelings were more than perceived.
Her English was poor but my French was nil.
If it were better I might know her still.
I reread that letter ten times a day.
Her words, once vibrant, soon faded away.
Her youth’s everlasting as I’ve grown,
decades long past, her name’s now unknown.
And now miles divide as the time multiplies.
Yet still in mind I gaze in her eyes.