Letters

Outside
Nightclouds are low
And a shutout wind incessantly mourns.
A single bulb desperately aids
My halting wakefulness
Making gum glisten
As I seal the finished letter.

I sit back and stare
At the table's polished screen
Allowing my absent gaze
To tune in her face.
Memory's ectoplasm
Conjured up in the early hours.

There's a farewell smile
As the veneer reclaims her.
I stick the stamp and wonder
If she'll relish my words.
Weary with thinking
I rise from my seat and
Reach for the angle-poise
To switch off the night.

Inside
Dawn may find her
Fallen on the mat, snug-tight
In Basildon Bond
Her yesterday's longings awaiting release
By my eager hands.