Oh shoot, okay so sorry to hear that, but good news you can get here a little bit.
*HUGS*
See you soon I hope.
Your words to me on old paper rare
are the honey of my sun
the alabaster of my bath, calming me
on stressful nights when you're a thousand miles away
You words on paper grow more precious day by day
as the silver in my hair turns to gray
bentfeather (c) 2003