Picture of Me

You took a picture of me the last time I saw you.

I put up a small fuss.  Insecurity, bashfulness, and a touch of coy.  But when you said, "I've got a lot of long, lonely, cold nights ahead of me," I nodded and you clicked.

I got back on the train.

It was a cool, damp morning.

All the way back I looked into people's backyards.  I fantasized about life under all those beautiful, majestic trees.

Once I was home again I thought about that picture a lot.  I didn't want to see.  But I wondered if it helped keep you company.  Or warm.

Your letters were my companion and cover.

The loveliest letters.

The only love letters I've kept after the love fell out.