I will drop you a letter in the letter box
Each day I will pray
That it reaches you
Carried by postmen kind
And pigeons grey
covered in morning dew.

I will write what each
heart-beat of mine
screams out,
each day in rage.
Your lonesome expressions
Are a dream to me
And wild imagination
When you read the silent page.

Every line I pour
To you father, or mother
Or lover,
Or a friend long lost.
Days I will ponder,
Before it lies on your table
Soaked with scribbles, and
Words and sentences crossed.

A long wait now follows
Leaving me lost in thought
Because pages
In your scrawling script
Are all, that my
Desperate eyes had sought.

What great it could be, if I could instantly tell you what I feel.