Dear Poet.

Poems
written
in parking lots
throughout the day

Poems
written
while thinking of you
beside me
in a jazz club
in the city

soft
conversations

sweet
conversations

beautiful
conversations

~

Home
starts
at a table
in the kitchen

It is were we eat

It is were we think

It is where we hatch our plans
for tomorrow

It is were poems dance
and find their way
onto computer screens
at night

It is where desires
and fantasies
stop to talk

It is where adventures are born

It is where adventures die

It is were we construct our successes

And it is where we acknowledge
our failures

~

I love
thinking
of you, poet

I love
thinking
of how sexy
you look … how sexy
you are ...
and as intelligent
as a college professor!

So romantic!

So perfect!

~

I must close.

I miss you, poet

I hope you don't mind
me sending you
these few words ...

I was just thinking of you /
and wanting to write

I will write again soon.

(You have no idea of how special you are!)

~SAS