Just to be sure I read his letter again There was no hint of any obvious pain, Though I sensed some things unsaid It wasn't anything in particular he said. The distance between his words spread And sentences read like averting dread, Not loud enough for me to hear his sigh Not sad enough for me to utter a cry. Though scent of letter courted fragrant air Aromatic smell was curiously unfamiliar. I did spot an attempt at overt disguise It wasn't the most blatant effort to lie. His epistle grew a bit strange and unknown The return address he used was his own, But postal stamp showed he was with her In her home town when he mailed the letter. October 13, 2017