p.s. i love you

when we would hand write

letters

to one another

in the previous century.

a pen in hand,

thoughtfully jotting down

our days chores,

or what transpired during

the week, with

kids and school, work

and such.

we would say how bright

the moon was last

night,

i wish you were here with me

to see it.

i miss your arms around me,

your kisses.

the sound of your voice.

we would go on and on,

rambling forward

until the end where we

would sign off with

affectionately, or with love,

or adoringly, then p.s.

i love you. as if necessary

to say so,

the preface not being enough.