We have so much to say,
we know any attempt will only fall short,
and so we say nothing at all.

But no more.

We write now to tell you of even the trivial,
prayers for your joy,
health, good life,
plentiful bounty.

Wishing you peace,
night skies you can penetrate,
with an ardent scan.

Warm fires against your back,
your shadow there on the wall,
hovering above your lover’s.

We close, respectfully,
with the heartfelt desire,
for you to experience nothing,

just perfect days,
timeless days,

slow puffy sails,
wet turquoise.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013