Hour 5

The pen is heavy in my hand,

its shadow is a monster on the wall.

I finish another letter

and set it next to the weeping willow tree.

It disappears when I reopen my eyes.

Rain polka dots my hair

and the sky and I cry together.


My hand is tugged and I glance down

at a red haired child,

eyes the color of the ocean.

I hold her face in my hands

as if I were holding my heart.

Words appear on her forehead.

Forgive –

The rain washes away the second word

before I can read it.

She is gone when I start to speak.


The pen is cold in my hand.

This letter is for her.

I leave the letter where she last stood,

holding out my arms.



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