Fingers graze over the envelope,
Pressing the paper against my nose
Inhaling the scent of the message
Holding it ever so close.
Eyes dancing over the pages,
The script remarkably elegant.
Haven’t received one for ages
Words expressing sweet sentiment.
How I long to touch my beloved,
For his lips to brush against mine.
For now, this will be enough
Drinking his words like wine.
© S. Reed
In response to “A Lost Art“.
This week, tell us about a lost art: one that you know, one that you miss, or one that should be lost for good.