1985-02-12

            Letters wing their way to me,
              caresses on paper, friends in words.
            The warmth is there
              even as the weeks and months roll by.
            My mother, friend, lover,
              is imperishably and gently expressed.
            Like a hand that caresses
              or a look that tells.
            How good it is we remember...
              and how good it is
                 that 'we' survive.
                                 gallagher
                                 12 feb 85
            - upon receipt of Janice's letter.

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —

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