What Waits Here
A Bureau In Red Glass, And It Is Yours
Pigeonholes for what you have sealed. A drawer for what you have begun. A treasure chest for what somebody wrote to you.
Your Hand
You Choose The Handwriting
I have never told you what that day meant to me.
Your Ink
And What It Is Written In
I have never told you what that day meant to me.
The Quill Is Yours
There Is One Person You Would Say It To First
Write it in your own hand, on red glass, taking as long as you like. Or press once and say it out loud, so they hear it in your voice.
The Wax
You Choose The Morning It Arrives
This Sunday, or a birthday 30 years from here. Press your seal, and it waits exactly as you left it until that morning comes.
Yours
Take A Bureau Of Your Own
Write tonight, and choose the morning it arrives. Then go and live, knowing it is waiting for them.