A love letter

A love letter

My love,
I promised I'd write.
I've been well since that night
I touched your breast, your thigh,
And heard your sigh,
My love.

What now?
That night was short,
A simple snapshot caught
In one unheeding second
When simplicity beckoned.
What now?

This note
Should be the last.
We could carry around the past
Like a fading photograph.
We could sometimes laugh
At this note.

Tonight,
I am sitting alone
Listening to the gramophone.
I had lamb chops to eat.
I'm drinking whisky neat,
Tonight.

It's late.
The words I have in mind
Might be of the late-night kind
Which espouse a perfect cause.
So I must stop, because
It' s late.

Words...
I find those words are best
Which, smothered, muffled in a breast
Are said safe, half unheard,
Can be ignored but treasured
Words.

My love,
I promised to write.
I've been well since that night
I kissed your breast, your eyes,
And breathed your sighs,
My love.