I dreamt we met in verses once again.
The mood was Lithuanian as yourself.
Our convesation was in pen and ink,
Outdated as a winter aeorgramme.
You wrote me notes upon the stems of flowers,
Then told me to destroy your poor scribbles.
Snow to the eaves could still bring Wednesday back,
Though time itself was quite irrelevant.
I woke this morning feeling reassured,
To see my Yiddish name upon the pane.
Rare as a single snowflake is that bond,
That lights old souls beyond all winterness.
i know two yiddish men who changed the world jesus and einstein.......
with the hightech gripping the globe, aeorgrammes are now a rarity i suppose...o, how they used to carry one heart to another across the seas!
Thanks a lot for this wonderful, rare winter aerogram! Slowly falling snow flakes, name written on the windowpane, lighting up old souls....Exquisite, soothing, reassuring words that make living worthwhile...
Those aerograms once were familiar to me. No wonder you still dream of your aerogram friendship: friends never disappear, but live in memory and dreams. The imagery is wonderful: a winter etude of warm memory.
Our convesation was in pen and ink, Outdated as a winter aeorgramme. - From the core of my heart, I mourn the demise of 'aeorgrammes and envelopes', of hand written letters. If you have time, you may like to read my poem titled 'Our Lost Treasure Trove' and say a few words please. This poem deserves full marks.10/10.
aweee sandra such a sweet poem..........absolutely loved it!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what I write keeps disappearing! ! this is simply beautiful, captures the thrill of love in a letter, an aerogramme, light, falling on a heart much like snowflakes - touching; moving; sensitive mark