Dear Lover,
I haven't memorized your voice yet.
But some days I wonder.
If.
As I'm passing through a crowd.
As I'm off in my own deep thoughts (er... la-la land.)
Or beneath a tree, lost in a good book.
Or taking a sip of fizzy water at a cafe.
The carbonation tickling the back of my throat.
The condensation sliding down the side of the glass.
If you'll pass.
And you'll speak.
And I'll know.
Like your voice had already set up a permanent home in the marrow of my bones.
Love,
Me.
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