Elyse needs a letter like that
a new best friend from camp
scrawling a farewell with a
promise for more, a play date,
a pool party for summer's last hurrah,
the sleepover where they'll stay up
too late watching a movie that's
too scary and hugging each other
to sleep. Elyse needs a letter like that
to keep her company on the ride
home with all her week's projects and
the brief euphoria she allowed herself
to swim in for 5 hours and 4 days,
group lunches and trampoline turns and girls
who did not know her name before Monday.
How we all need a letter like that, even
forty years later, or eight, or twenty-two.
Some soft hand opening itself without our
knowing it was coming or that we were worthy
of the invitation.