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Cedar Wax Wing

I am writing to you
from this side of life,
though I know your answer will only be
in birdsong
or the autumn breeze
in the cedar boughs.

Longing for word
in faded ink,
written in your strong hand
or a picture postcard
from the other side-
‘Wish you were here.’

I await your reply

Going thru your desk, I find
the note you wrote
on the day I was born
and I know the longed for missive
has arrived.

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