The saddest words,
you wrote them . I imagine a wrinkled hand
aged with arthritis, as mine will be,
still writing,
of regrets and skins you touched and loved.
We sit sometimes in the moonlight,
remember the days past our wedding,
the evening sun at midnight, waking
us from sleep,
the heat
of Mexico.
The saddest words.
The moon rose yellow and we loved
as much as we could find,
each town, every face, the nights and days,
the saddest words.
