Old Letters

I found a letter from 1997 I wrote you;

Sitting in 2016, it's a time capsule.

You really were my best friend

and I loved you.

I read a line about the boy I crushed on,

who, when I ran into him two summers after we met, 

wearing a polyester 70's disco shirt,

a small gold earring.

I said the connection was still there between us, but

knew something was different;

I had to again get to know

the man that houses the boy

who once wanted to kiss me in the moonlight.

Only,

that boy changed,

and she is a beautiful wordsmith.

I now understand why something was different between us

And you are gone.  

We memorialized you yesterday.

I cried a river and then drank wine and ate chocolate,

making my husband cry too.

God, you were so talented

and loved.

Your boys walked solemnly in the isle; 

Red, blonde, black tousled hair.

Did you know about him?  

What would you have said about her? 

I found her after you moved on,

before the beautiful service you arranged,

before my funeral dress was covered in Kleenex lint.

You both are intertwined in my memory;

dancing in the rain, uninhibited, uncontrollable, impressionable.

7/18/2016