Dead Letter Drop

Once the words sprang off the pages

like the green shoots of spring

eager to be greeted

eager to be read.

That was before 

the winter chill

froze them

into remnants.

Tattered pages,

empty envelopes 

and empty words

as worn and shrivelled

as our love became.


Or almost dead.

But I cannot quite let them go,

cannot quite let us go

so I’ll bundle them up

tie a ribbon round them

for old times sake

and hide them away 

in the winter branches.

And I’ll try to forget

and try not to forget.

And perhaps come spring

they’ll rise from the dead

like the new shoots on the tree 

and burst into life again.

It’s worth a chance.


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