by Mary E. Lowd
I do not know when you and I
Shall speak again
It could be quite a while
But I have here in my lap
A cat who purrs
And an open book
Telling me of wonders
I’ll never see with my own eyes
But dance in my mind
Entrancing daydreams
Connecting me to a tradition
Of communication
That extends beyond
The here and now
So when we do speak
—if ever that time comes—
I can tell you of this book
Until then, it will tell me
Of truths I hadn’t realized
About me and you
Because people are always people
And an author who never knew us
Knew us still better
Than we know ourselves