Untitled Post/The Letter

She perched herself upon her bedroom windowsill and allowed the feelings deeply set in her heart to spill...
Onto moistened paper stained with many tears
Where her utterances sang of her heartaches, worries and her fears
She wanted to let the world in on what should be known…
That her feelings are true and that they would wait for the hand still not yet shown.
In spite of the battle between her heart’s joys and her mind’s concerns. The embers of the love she feels within still burns.
She sits and writes a letter:


Dear Henry –

How can I begin? How can I begin to tell you what you mean to me? I find that I am sometimes lost in the reverie.
It feels like we are on standing at the base of a hill. It's
a hill of good intentions to be climbed that soon became too steep to bear. I find that I would look at you and often wonder, where could we possibly go from here?
Do we have what it takes to make the other happy, to give the smallest gift of a smile? Would we or could we travel love’s distance…could we go that extra mile? I want to look at you and know that we did not end too soon. What I know for certain now is that you are my Henry and I am your June. Let time stand still where it has us in a warm and lasting embrace. Where I would want for nothing more than to stare into your face. I would get lost in the black stars that are your eyes. Together we will look up into the heavenly skies. I would take comfort in the poetry that falls from your lips and feel at ease with the touch of your finger tips. We will walk hand and hand one day and watch all the flowers around us bloom. But in this moment we are the dearest of friends, please be well dear Henry.

Love now and always, June