Dear Aurelia,

I hope this letter finds you well

If it could find you at all

that’d be swell

You see

I worry my carrier pigeon may fall

Or fly into a wall

Or be spooked by a hawk’s call

As I imagine what could happen

I pray that it will not

For then the feelings that I have caught

Those that my heart dies to express

Would be lost, to my distress

Lost like how I had been

before you know when

I must tell you, I spend my time

alternating between

a dream and a daydream

Always of your soft hand in mine

Of your sweet voice close to my ear when the music was loud

Of your tolerance of my poor dancing skills

My two left feet

Of your sparkling eyes that riddled my spine with chills

What I felt that night

wasn’t just a spark

It was a full fire, burning bright

in the dark

If you felt it too

send me back a letter so I know it’s true

With love, Oliver

Dear Oliver,

Your worries have become a reality

That pigeon of yours delivered the letter to me

And my name is certainly

not Aurelia

My hands are calloused from years in the mines

My voice is rough from smoke

Sandpaper lines

the insides of my throat

I used to have tolerance and patience

Now they say I’m a bear not to poke

If I looked in a mirror

I’m sure I’d find grey, dull eyes

Maybe when I was younger they shone with a lust for life

Back when that fire you described burned in my bones

Hold on to that feeling

and the woman that makes you feel it

With all the strength in your being

Don’t let nobody steel it

Thank you for reminding me

If only for a moment

What it was like to be

So enamored

So seen

So alive

Sincerely, Bradford

Dear Bradford,

I don’t know who you are

Nor do I know Oliver and Aurelia

All I know is that this bird is a menace

It flew into my kitchen like it owned the place

And pecked the crust off of my cherry pie

It’s lucky it didn’t die

right then and there

But my hands were full like they always are

With bottles of milk

Diapers

Wooden toys

My boys told me I had flour in my hair

Really it’s just the strands turning grey

My whole head will be white by May

I balance one child on my hip

One’s pulling on my skirt

One’s kicking my bladder

It’s always a group trip

to the bathroom

No matter

I suppose I’m glad I didn’t kill the pigeon

My husband read the letter

Said he was sorry and kissed the spot in my neck that’s tender

What for? I had asked

Not holding onto you with all the strength in my being

His parents are watching the kids this evening

If my letter somehow finds its way to Oliver

My advice would be to tell the girl how you feel in person

But most importantly

Show her with action

Best wishes, Glenda

Dear Diary,

He finally knocked on my door last night

With a bouquet and a mandolin

I’m better at playing than dancing, he said with a grin

So he played a song and I danced to the rhythm

He tugged on my heart strings

I twirled around the balcony

Almost fell over the railing

So dizzy

With love

Though lost for a while

We’ve found each other

Until morning summons the sun

We laugh and cry

Share secrets and the story behind my crooked thumb

Why I’ve pledged to never again drink rum

How he’s worried about his father

How I’ve become estranged to my mother

We both grew up loving the Brothers Grimm

The pigeon

sat perched on the roof

Through it all, cooing

I wonder if it knew the whole time exactly what it was doing

With love, Aurelia