L C Vieira
L C Vieira Poems
What happened to the art of writing
long letters to a friend,
a lover waiting anxiously,
a beginning and an end?
Emails miss the middle bits
and all the extras, too,
but letters can be rich with words
of details through and through.
I know of some whose only kiss,
flowed from heart to pen,
on scented sheets of pale paper,
read again and again.
These letters safely tucked away
in secret backs of drawers,
are memories rich for years to come,
a journal of one’s stories.
So, if I write too much today,
forgive me if you ...
There is no moment like this one with you,
no bed as welcoming,
no morning to greet me as you do.
You cover me with goose down
and warm legs around me,
cooling my long-night heat
with frozen grapes for my lips.