I never knew you write.
Is it a secret then
Well-kept in a closet of papers
Hidden among photos of a long-ago kiss?
It is bound in green
clean and crisp
As silent as when I saw you by the window
waiting for Papa.
I'm sorry I'll have to keep it a secret, too
This notebook that saw your waiting
I will keep it with me
while I watch you again by the window
Maybe I can re-write you
to a time when I was five or six
and you swayed your hips
while I squinted at the words
written on your brand new top.
On your chest, it reads H-u-g M-e.
Hug Me, you say.
That's how love is spelled Ma.
And I will re-write you.
Not alone this time.