A letter everyday even if Jane cannot see it

When we have last parted, my dear Jane,

Through the torn silver light,

I swore this as deeply sewn as my father’s name

I, Edward, do not go without a fight

I fight through my heart even as I am weak man,

Thoughtful as first flesh and blood, wrought out of seizing flowering carbon and burning red rose streams—-

I will write to you, dear Jane,

Every day, every hour

In my mind,

On parchment

On the sidewalks and street-ways

So you may one day see,

Read as I read you, as you cleverly read my countenance every morn’,

A dreaming little bird who is free

And not lonely, yet solitary

A little lemon flower

That sounds like my favorite type of rain.