It had been over a week since Sarah had found the time to visit David, she missed the tea and sweet biscuits he often shared with her. She decided, if she didn’t have time to stop she would put another note in the book box. She decided to share the ones she wrote about Thanksgiving because it was funny and the chickens and the short one, about Potten. She couldn’t wait to hear his response.

Sarah’s heart raced with anticipation as she approached David’s house, clutching her notebook tightly. It had been too long since their last visit, and she missed their conversations and the comfort of his presence. But today, even if she didn’t have time to stay, she was determined to leave a note in the book box David had built.

As she carefully opened the box and placed her writings inside, Sarah couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. The poems she had chosen to share were close to her heart, some with a humorous twist. She hoped David would like them. They held her emotions, her hopes, and her yearning for a kinder world.

With a deep breath, Sarah closed the book box and started walking away, unable to shake off her curiosity about David’s reaction. Would he appreciate her poems? Would he offer advice or share his own poetry in return? The possibilities danced in her mind, creating a sense of anticipation that she couldn’t ignore.

Sarah found herself checking the book box every day, hoping for a response from David. She longed for his wisdom and encouragement, the guidance he had always provided. But as time passed, the book box remained empty, its silence echoing in her heart.

Doubt began to creep in. Maybe her poems weren’t good enough. Maybe David had lost interest in their shared conversations. The thoughts spun around her mind, threatening to dampen her creative spirit. But deep down, Sarah knew she couldn’t let her doubts hold her back.

Instead, she turned to her notebook once again, pouring her emotions onto the pages.

I don’t want to be alone.

but now you are gone.

Without your kindness I am alone.

I don’t want to cry. I heave a heavy sigh,

Because you’re gone. I don’t want you to leave.

Please don’t leave. Where are you? Where are you?

Please believe… I love you.

She continued to write, finding solace and understanding in her own words. The act of putting her thoughts on paper, even without David’s guidance, became a source of strength for her.

Your absence feels like a weight,

Crushing my heart, my soul, and my fate.

I yearn for your friendship, your grace,

But now I am left in this lonely place.

I don’t want to cry, I want to smile,

But without you here, it feels futile.

My heart aches with every passing day,

in this loneliness I don’t want to stay.

I want to love, to feel alive,

But without you by my side,

I cannot thrive.

Please come back to me, my friend,

I’ll cherish you forever, why does our friendship have to end?

I need you to help me through this maze,

To brighten up my darkest days.

Please don’t leave me alone,

Without you, my heart turns to stone.

One day, as Sarah sat at her desk, a letter arrived. She recognized David’s handwriting immediately, and her heart skipped a beat. With trembling hands, she opened the envelope and began to read his words.

“My dearest Sarah,

I apologize for the delay in responding to your beautiful poems. Life has been rather busy, I had to go to the hospital for a while but I am better now. I regret not being able to offer you immediate feedback. But please know that your words have touched me deeply. Your sensitivity and passion shine through every line, and I am in awe of your ability to capture the essence of compassion and kindness.

The poem about Thanksgiving and the chickens reminded me of the importance of gratitude and recognizing the value of every living being. I laughed when I considered eating beef jerky instead of the traditional holiday meal. Maybe I will try that for Christmas. Though you do know Jerky is made of meat right? The playful poem about Potten made me smile, reminding me of the innocence and joy that should be cherished in all creatures. It even inspired me to pen a short poem.

Oh dear, what a story, a tale to tell

It gives me quite a fright.

Suzy’s bunny, with its tail so soft,

Potten not in the pot, out Potton hopped

and played and lived in the sunlight,

a life of joy, and not to be lost.

A bunny is a gentle friend

With fur so silky and fine

I say, no longer in the pot, but living free,

Bathed in sunlight, each and every day.

to hop and play and on carrots dine!

Potten’s not meant for a pot, you see.

It’s not a very good poem I am afraid. I have been very tired of late. Sarah, never doubt the impact your words can have. You have a gift, a voice that deserves to be heard. Keep writing, my dear friend, and continue to share your thoughts and feelings with the world. You have a power within you, and I believe it can make a difference.

I look forward to our next meeting, where we can delve deeper into your writings and explore the beauty of words together. Until then, know that you have my utmost admiration and support.

With warmest regards,

David”

Tears of relief and joy welled up in Sarah’s eyes as she finished reading the letter. David’s words were like a balm to her soul. She wondered where he had been. She read his letter over and over. Some of the words started to gnaw at her stomach, tired, hospital… Sarah had a thought, she had never had before. What would happen to her if David died?