Once in a while I still find a note you wrote me hidden away in a book. The other day I found the little metal angel you gave me to travel with and keep me safe. You used to want me to call and let you know I had arrived safely when I traveled. I miss that. A.D.
I am tired, Beloved,
of chafing my heart against
the want of you;
of squeezing it into little inkdrops,
And posting it.
From “The Letter” by Amy Lowell