Letter

Standard

 

You wake

later, sleepy

and slightly

sheepish

and slope about

with puzzled frown

finding paper, pen,

envelope, stamp:

an exhausting list

of wishes

before even a

slurp of coffee

or a kiss.

 

‘There!’

and a yielding

kind of pride

when the final

thing is flourished

to girls

more intent on

Conor Barrying

their crunchy nut

cornflaked milk

than cheering on

your early triumphs.

 

So then you turn to me

seeking a smile,

some sign of

high regard

but I mutter,

uncharacteristically

pessimistically,

‘You’ve not posted it yet.’

 

You nod slowly.

You know there are

challenges ahead.

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