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 ...
Brown Leather Jacket
You are the moist tip of my tongue;
the silent pause in the air
I take in - and the one that breaks out.
You are a selfless act in the river of my blood,
taking this tossed-about spirit,
and folding it gently against your breast,
I am warmed, safe and believing