The Wallet

"The Wallet"

I took your wallet from the drawer today.
It's the old, worn, well-used one you sent me.
It still carries the imprint from riding in your pocket.
I run my hand across it's pliable softness.
The leathery smell is all but gone.
But still, somehow it makes me feel close to you.
You must've opened it a thousand times.
A day-to-day possession you carried with you.
You probably thought it silly that I asked for it.
But it is like a little treasure to me
a secret gift that only I would appreciate,
just knowing that you touched it every day.
But I have yet to be touched by you.
It makes me sad, but anxious for the time
when every day I will be touched by you.