The Twelfth Letter

Dear,

I don't know how much of the song is truth or just the wonderings of my imagination. There was a time, a summer ago, our last summer, when we both knew what I was thinking. Somehow, you must have gotten the drift and known that I felt something for you. You kissed me, and it was all I could have ever wanted.

And then you left, and the only thing of yours I have still are the memories.

Love, Tom.