Dear Q

You're there and I'm here
with usually a letter in between
and enough wax and ribbon and perfumed lips to fill an ocean
The scent of late summer sage wafts through your open window,
city sounds float through mine
We had time enough to run through the desert
with plenty of memories to float every page in between
One day you will visit my castle in the snow
There will be plenty of winters for you and me
Be patient, my pretty
We can make snow angels and a safe, warm igloo
and I will show you all the lines from my letters
etched into the city streets
You will see the world that has become my own
and I hope when you return
the silence of that first fallen snow will thrum within your hands
enough to write me once more

Your Cybil