Dear Sam

I wrote you a poem, sam.
Sam?
Sam, I said I wrote you a poem.


Sam?


You can't hear me, Sam.
It would be easier
if I was able
to say it.

But I can't say those words Sam.
Why?
I'm not sure, really.
I guess because
I'm not allowed.

It's a pretty poem, it really is.
I wrote about your eyes.
the first time I saw them, really looked at them,
really saw how blue they were,
how deep,
and really wondered what things they've seen
and really knew I'd stay awake all night
to listen to you talk
if you wanted to tell me about it.

Sam?

Oh, I got caught up and forgot.
I cant say any of that to you, sam.