He sends me paper postcards
of places I can never go.
I receive them in my mailbox
through the sunshine and the snow.

Some days they are joyful
on others they are very sad.
He is the one who makes them. 
His current mood a fad.

The postcard I received today
was scribbled green and black.
In the middle a question mark,
the questions written on the back.

"Where is my motivation?
I feel like I have lost my way.
I know that I can thrive,
but instead I am wasting away."

I wish that I could hold him
tight in my embrace,
but right now he is far away
and in a different place.

So, he will send me postcards
of places where I cannot dwell
and I will wish that he were here
instead of in his own personal hell.


©2005