The second poem of the month from Gabriel Preil’s amazing poetry collection Autumn Music.
The following poem is my absolute favourite from the book.
Letter out of the Gray
– Gabriel Preil
No one writes to me.
The books are as tired as I.
The pen still shakes on the paper
its dubious warmth
and it seems I’m not holding it.
It is a reed stuck in a faraway sea
or seized by a stranger
directing a line from right to left
as if by accident.
But sometimes, out of the gray,
a square letter smiles.
Blue and innocent,
I am the only one who loves.