I’ve read your works today and they were inconsolably sweet
And they spoke to me
Honeyed poems persistently and eternally nibbled by termites
You were 28 when I was just a little kid.
I am 20 and you would have been in your 40s but you remained 28 forever.
Either way I will still find you lovely.
The almond eyes like an animal’s. Always suspicious as a feline;
The sickly arms and necessitous smile
I wonder how you are.
Do you like long bus rides in a rainy day or do you prefer slow afternoons in your room painting?
Do you like cream or milk in your coffee? Do you even drink coffee at all?
Leaping from one page to another
Is the desire for space yet to be satisfied? I am lost like the rest of us