Even if I could wrap it up,
You’d not be surprised to find
That same gift I give you every day
Beating away like a ticking bomb,
Sweet as stained-red marzipan.
My Dearest …….
It’s not an excuse
But I was never good at writing thank you letters.
They were always late,
Written in resentful hurry and full of mistakes.
This thank you is also late.
I am sorry.
However, my biggest mistake
Was waiting until you asked if I liked them
Before I could tell you how,
I don’t just like your gifts,
I love them.
What better gifts could there be
For when we are apart
Than to be able to imagine
You in the words I read,
Or close my eyes
That it is the music of you that I hear
Beating in my heart,
Whispering in my ear.
I should have been more effusive in my gratitude.
I should have shown greater joy in receiving far more than I deserve.
I should have shown you how much more I love you for thinking of me, when I thought I’d been forgotten.
It’s odd isn’t it?
That I never tell you these kind of things
Face to face.
Ear to Ear.
That instead, I have to write it down,
Paper and pen
To tell you how I really feel
Because in real life I have become too scared?
Too scared to let you get too close again
In case you run away with my heart
But this time don’t bring it back.
Anyway…before I sign off,
Let me repeat how thankful I am
For your presence.