Summary: A fictional kitchen scene about setting an angry letter aside until the words can be honest without becoming hurtful. Restraint does not erase the grievance or promise forgiveness.

I set my temper down in lines of blue,
And drew a line between myself and you.
The kettle clicked; the window caught the rain.
I read it once and heard my own old pain.

The letter can wait; let it lie.
I don't need to wound in reply.
I can tell you what's wrong in the light,
Without making a weapon tonight.

I fold the page and set it by the bread;
The words are still awake inside my head.
I'll write again when I can see them clear;
A softer voice can say what matters here.

The letter can wait; let it lie.
I don't need to wound in reply.
I can tell you what's wrong in the light,
Without making a weapon tonight.