mindestens es ist nicht Montag.
It's getting there, slowly this day's getting there. 
Sometimes I read back our letters and I always find something new, 
a hidden smile or a new insight into your words.

If you're really okay with someone - you don't have to talk ALL the time.
You can just be sharing a space, but each doing his or her own thing. 
You could be drawing or looking out the window for strangely-shaped clouds
while she wove her own images from words into a beautiful story.

 You could be alone together.

What are you thinking?
I was thinking of you.

Surprises come in all shapes and sizes. This haiku twined alongst the stem 
of A flower in a small blue vase by your bedside speaks volumes,
than if I were to explain how it came to be there. How much you mean to me, 
and how much hope and beauty I see in you.

You touch me unlike any other in my dreams.
Schatze, a word that means treasure in another language I call you.
Delicate barefoot, the mischief of a smirk, 
and the sultry length of an afternoon in awaited summer. 
These are all you. Your cat-like eyes hold secrets.

COME ON IN.

A smile from you is the coming of heaven.

These words come from my heart, my heart which has not known the feelings that have besieged it. 
The attack was slow in coming, but surely found its target. I cannot deny its efficiency, its totality 
has drowned me. In our time have I learned how to breathe water. The very same water that 
I have thirsted for, nearing sure death in the wasteland of these carrion-guarded years. 

You have sent the rain and cleansed me. 
From false weakness in silence I cry out in the veldt of fullness your name. 
You have shared with me your strength and courage. 
I face the day with sure-footedness, the precipice no longer holds any challenge 
and the Wind roars its welcome in my ears.

I am no longer alone, With You I am Home.

I long to touch you and show you what these words mean.
I cannot wait for our two worlds to collide. And become One.

THE ANGEL HAS SPOKEN.