I've still got the poem you wrote for me.
It's folded up and fading
But it's in my wallet and just so long as I know where that wallet is
I'll know where that poem is, too.
I keep it with me because it's a good poem, one that I like to read every time.
I keep it with me, also, because it reminds me of you.
And I suppose it reminds me of me, too.
It reminds me of dancing, and how hard it is to get any decent sleep on busses.
It reminds me of sailboats, forgetting to wear underwear, and really, really good surprises.
It reminds me of losing touch, looking around for it a while, and finding it again, like you always knew you would.
It reminds me of how hard it is to understand each other, and how wonderful it feels to try, anyway.
It reminds me how easy it is to go completely, hopelessly insane.
But more than anything else
It reminds me of you
And how beautiful you were
Eating my friends borrowed peanut butter
Straight from the jar.
And I wouldn't trade that for any number of poems,
Not even a whole wallet-full.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem