At a resort

To The Lady on the Train,

I am in a beautiful hot country. The resort sits on a palm tree dotted beach of a sheltered azure bay that faces out toward the vast blue of the south Atlantic Ocean. The people who look after us are as warm as the days. There is good food, music and dancing and singing; games to play and laughter to share. Well tended gardens and pathways throughout, beautiful swimming pools, and a gentle warm breeze. There is hardly anything more that one could want. Hardly, and yet. 

And yet there is something missing. It is the same thing that is always missing. It is that which has left me with this hole that I carry. It is a hole that is the exact shape of your eyes and resonates at the frequency of your voice. 

It will be a week in the sun and sand, away from the snow and cold that awaits our return North. It will be just one more week with you not where I am. 

The Man in the Station