Indirect

This piece is written a little differently from my usual banter. I suppose I am trying something on for a while.

I missed you today

especially

when I could hear the wind

whipping wildly outside my window

where you would hear the wind

against the ocean swells

where you would be kissed

by the spray and mist

and serenaded by gentle noise

when I listen to folk

and banjos

and fiddlers

like Oliver

I think of

Echo

Alpha

Sierra

Tango.

I miss you whenever

I read lush

Prose. You always spoke with

Soothing eloquence. Your words were

Butter and chocolate, so rich

In verbose you were

Where I was not.

In speech I fumbled always

In script I was a little less dizzy

You were certainly

Poised in both.

T.DM

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