Away

I write to you so often,
my pencil has grown short.
Why did you go? Why did they call?
I know, your duty's to report.

I write to you so often,
because my ears are echo empty.
It's as if now we're really talking, as long as
pencil touches paper, that's the key.

I write to you so often,
I imagine a small trail.
The route these many missives take,
I'd follow , but I know to no avail.

I write to you so often,
my lips are lonely too.
I miss the way you wake me,
Like the kiss of morning dew.

I write to you so often,
I know the time draws near.
If mail is coming back,
I'll know, at least I'll hear.

I wrote to you so often,
I thought I'd give you ease.
You're home for good and near me now,
your ashes rest in peace.