waiting for a letter

serious ponderings weren't taking place,
just laid in place and left smoldering in a case,
thinking about the past, present and future days,
thoughts gravitating towards posthaste.

two years ten days to this day he saw tears,
tears from a girl saddened by his departure,
never had they phantom that the months would turned into years,
and the stitches between the seams would begin to rupture,

two years ten days later, and a fortnights worth of mail,
they rediscover the joy of talking to each other,
and just the other night, in her words he saw a smile,
time seem to crawl at snails pace waiting for a lover.