Your postcards now hangin my living room,I took two of them off the wallin your kitchen,moved them downthe roadwhere I seethe ocean whileI write this poem.The middle onewas by your bedsidewhen you died.I look at themand see allthe memories,all the summersI came hometo see youwhere I now callmy own.I carry your lovein your handwritingwith meContinue reading “Postcards”