We met inside the meeting space, Spring air drifting through the place. Outside, the sakura filled the sky, But I got lost just in your eyes. Shared quiet smiles and coffee steam, You felt like something from a dream. You said, “This job is just for now,” But something bloomed between us — somehow. We sent postcards from two different skies, “Wish you were here,” written a thousand times. Your words felt close though you were far, Between my fingers, paper hearts. But love like ink can fade with rain, And distance teaches hearts to change. Still I smile when I look back that way— At postcards from yesterday. You wrote from Rome and Tuscan light, Told me how the wine felt right. I sent you songs and poetry, You said you kept them close to sleep. But slowly, silence filled the space, New routines took your place. I met someone, and so did you, And somehow, that felt gentle too. Now we live in different frames, Different hands, new last names. But once in a while, on rainy days, I read your last card — “I’m okay.” We sent postcards from two different lives, Tied by hope and long goodbyes. No regrets, just soft goodnights, Two hearts that loved and gave it time. Now we love where we have stayed, In arms we wouldn’t trade. But I’ll never forget that gentle fade— Like postcards from yesterday. Postcards from you… Still tucked away.
