A collection of letters,
All sitting together
Read and read over again.
I like when you write me
Your thoughts and your poetry
And I wish you had more yet to send.
So here now I write you,
My thoughts are all for you
It drives me nearly to cry.
And I wish that for right now
You could only see how
Beautiful it is in the sky.
I know how you love it
On days where we can sit
And lose ourselves in the clouds.
But now only rain falls
And here only pain falls
And I lose your face in the crowds.
Oh those boxes of letters
All sitting together
They drive me nearly insane.
And always I see them
And often I read them
To the mellow drumming of rain.
They remind me of your face
When you sat in that place,
In your mind, with the clear blue skies.
But they’re here with me now
Alone here somehow,
Every night I can hear their cries.
I can hear your voice in them
Lamenting within them
Longing and wishing to be heard.
And I tell you I hear you
And assure you that I do
Live and die with every last word.
And I have since
Relied on my conscience
To tell me to write you today.
But my pen always fails me
Like my voice always failed me
When I tried to get you to stay.
Now every time that I see
The clouds so clearly
I pray that you’ll look to the sky.
So when you see that scenery
You’ll think to write me
That letter to make me cry.