Dear You,  

I made it home. 

The drive was long 

and quiet. Music turned 

off halfway 

back to Illinois,  

your favorite songs  

made me want to turn 

around. I wish I could have  

stayed there with you forever 

in that fishing cabin on the coast. 

The headlights of passing cars  

reminded me of the lighthouse 

shining through our window at  

night. Guarding our beach. 

Smooth deep blue stone rattling 

all the way back 

in my cupholder. The one you gave to  

me. You said it 

was perfect for skipping. 

 

I didn’t skip it.             

                  

Wanting to hold  

onto that moment forever.  

It’s just a stupid rock. A silly 

little token of affection 

that I’ll carry with me until  

we go back to that pub,  

get root beers and poutine 

and you say poutine with a southern  

twang to the waiter, we’ll 

giggle all the way to the water  

to skip that perfect pebble  

together and I’ll stay with you there 

forever.