The Letter
She retrieved the letter from the mail.
Seeing the handwriting
she grew instantly pale.
She'd not seen it for many years.
Seeing it again brought
back the tears.
Not one word that he had said
was lost in her,
inside her head.
Things were good for so long.
Remembering them again
seemed so wrong.
The letter sat on her desktop now.
Staring at it intently
she knew somehow
the letter was an attempt to rectify
blaming him alone
or even knowing why?
Two months passed and finally
she opened it. Her heart stood still.
For she did see
words of comfort, but words of woe.
'I'm sick my love
but before I go
I need to see you. Can you come?
I'm sorry my love.
What's done is done.'
He died while the letter
sat unread.
She kept the letter in her bed.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Added by Poetry Lover
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