Letters, words, seashells

Dears,

how sorry I am for my lack of words.

Like pretty seashells under the boardwalk,

I have had them.

Day by day,

they slipped through my fingers like icing sugar.

In my little everyday  world,

words dance .

This much,

you already know.

Like today,

the ache in my heart to travel back to New England,

would take a book.

Or how that I STILL get a rush when I think

about the night I stayed up to watch the first black man

become president of those same United States.

In school ( way back in the day :)

I read Rainer Maria Rilkes  * Letters to a young poet*

he said, * Go inside yourself*

Those words, those words of his fall gently on my shoulders today.

Words.

Always with me.

Inside me.

Even if it will take this lifetime to

write them all.

Yours lovingly,

Anna