Not so long ago you wrote
beautiful long love letters
And poetry far superior to mine
without even trying
Words pregnant with passion
and saturated with promises
My heart was your playground
and my feelings were your toys
Then came the long silence
for reasons you never said
But which I somehow knew
from the winter of your heart
Now I am just another name
on your printed Christmas card list
Now I am just another postcard:
"The weather is fine.
Having a wonderful time.
Wish you were here."
©2003 poetheart