Before the bend You are steadfast, Sure, Steady. You stand armored In certainty...

My Dearest Eric, Where do I begin To find words that even come close To describing the way I feel about you?

I would like to hide inside myself A thousand times Crawl within the folds of fear And make myself warm And cozy.

A step, a quiet echo, And a lonely lullabye The softly swaying branches...

For so long, I’ve been reaching. Stretching, straining, groping — Fumbling in the dark; Fingers closing on nothing. Cursing.