SUNDAY POEMS

POSTCARD POEMS

 Postcard #1

Light seeps through a cracked door

and with it a song from long ago,

a memory embraced by melody.

I stand in the street, listening.

The music brings you to mind

and all the fun we had that night

collecting names and numbers from

strangers we knew we’d never see again

or call.

 

Postcard #2

Where have you been keeping yourself?

Did you ever make it to the place

you said you’d send photos from?

As I recall, it was no easy journey.

I picture you sitting on a wall

with your watercolors,

overlooking a turquoise sea.

 

Postcard #3

I stood behind someone at a café today

who, I swear, looked exactly like you.

It was the hair and that tan suede jacket.

The coffee wasn’t worth the wait, but

at least I got a glimpse of bygone days.

 

Postcard #4

Whatever it takes. That was the vow we made.

Now, that seems extravagant, being so certain

time would stop for us and nothing would change,

that circumstances wouldn’t intrude and distances

wouldn’t separate us. Youth insulated us from the

truth. Vows can be broken.

 

Postcard #5

Wish you were here.

Or I were there.

Or we were in the same place

at the same time just long

enough to share a meal and

tell each other lies about how

time has been kind to us

(though in your case

I’m sure it’s true).

 

Postcard #6

Tell everyone I said hello.

I would tell them myself

but you know how it goes

with good intentions and

best laid plans. Something

always comes up.     

 

Postcard #7

Another airport, another delay.

Since I apparently will be here for awhile,

I thought I’d drop you a few lines.

It’s been too long since that night in Madrid

when we stood on the Puente de Toledo,

its Romanesque arches spanning the Manzanares,

and mapped out our future. Obviously, it didn’t go

according to plan, but the memory lingers.

I hope this finds you well and happy.

I hope this finds you.

 

Postcard #8

Here I am in yet another hotel room,

far from where I’m meant to be.

I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to get there.

Forgive my brevity. I’m short on words right now.

But I am thinking of you.

I am.

 

©2025 Skip Berry