Wanda,

such a time,

was an air

of

promise,

of

wanted mail,

of

envelopes,

the sort that fall when

news is good to arrive.

She would traffic

your bumper-to-bumper

thoughts,

your ushered

streets

of firm respect,

with your belief,

Her laugh accompanied

that gentle shake of head

was more

fond of you

through open doorways.

Then glancing,

her laugh would fill 

that space

and at our meeting

eyes

they would

adore my approach.

 

Words and Image by Tommy Carroll