Dear You

With my shadow a timid mirror close at heel...

Dear you,
 
Pulling low my hat brim in Bournemouth and sliding into new cove with my shadow a timid mirror close at heel. Shyness prickles my cheeks and sets them aflame. My heart rate quickens as my tongue trips over verbs, adverbs, and popular expression. Infinitives all too easily and wildly split as I order two scoops of lemon sorbet in a cone. Do those other bathers I spy, who make warm days look so easy, do they, I wonder, lament their cuddly rolls and hairy chests?
 
Yours keenly aware of self,
X

They gasp at our feats of brilliance...

Dear you,
 
Let us take to the stage and drink in the awe of the crowd as they gasp at our feats of brilliance that defy all conceivable odds. Sandow, a fractured toucan and me. I like that!
 
Scampering to new heights but sure to topple,
X

Some sort of idyll, this is...

Dear you,
 
Some sort of idyll, this is. Unseen in Switzerland. I look down at my feet, but they’re already camouflaged from own view. They’ve become enmeshed in the floral carpet on which I stand. Quite expect at any moment to soon become at one with the landscape in literal sense. This is not how I expected it would feel this sense of oneness with the earth. With petals for toenails, Mother Nature seized me for herself.
 
Yours blending in to the extreme,
X

Yours in profusion of knots and confusion...

Dear you,
 
Well, of course, the beauty of it was it all seemed so gloriously familiar. At first. I didn’t realise, until too late, too late by far, that it was actually anything but. They had their own identities, the Red Lechwe and reflected Kirk’s dik-dik, and I’d managed to offend both in one clumsy swoop.
 
Yours in profusion of knots and confusion,
X

(Please find enclosed one Norwegian fur flyer for record.)