She Kept The Letters In A Drawer

a poem inspired by a beautiful photograph I found on tumblr, this is the link, http://stremplerart.tumblr.com/post/134270754454/fundobjekt

She kept the letters in a drawer

Locked away in a box made of teak

Lined with silk paper.

Next to a sachet of lavender,

Small shoes from her childhood,

Dried flowers from days almost forgotten.

 

Each memory

Tied ever so carefully

Ribbons of the softest silk.

The key, always close to her breast,

Hiding in a locket she always wore

But no one had ever seen.

 

Letters, passports, ticket stubs,

All of them nothing more than

Allusions to illusionary places.

She read them daily, wistfully,

Like an evening prayer to Love,

Mantras to her spirit

Chanting each word by memory,

Gently rolling her tongue over them

To feel the taste of each word of love,

Re-committing her every sigh to memory

 

Praises, laughter, whispers, tears, murmurs,

Words laced with promises

Long since broken

Or, perhaps, all were kept,

But always intended

For someone else.  

She read them like a thief of hearts,

These names and places she never knew,

Each stolen secret, a transfixed reality,

Little lies that only her heart knew of.

 

This one, from Gibraltar, spoke of a honeymoon

The one with the perfumed paper, from Paris,

Of the loss of innocence,

This one from Geneva, with the stunning photograph,

Spoke of love reunited,

This one from India, the Holi, the Festival of Colour,

So vivid, the only colour photograph and

How she loved the message of joy-

 

Every destination, every postal stamp,

All these cities where love grew,

Or perhaps withered,

She knew them all by rote

Although she had never been,

Airlines had never called her seat

Ships porters had never held her luggage,

Subway trains never passed her by In the middle of a kiss

The time schedule over run by the romantic urgency

 

The earthly completion of her travels gained no notice

Barely a whisper

On the boards of time,

The pall bearers were hired,

No tears were shed

Now her journey is beginning,

Her soul is free to explore where she could never go.

Author's Note

a poem inspired by a beautiful photograph I found on tumblr, this is the link, http://stremplerart.tumblr.com/post/134270754454/fundobjekt

Reviews

[KWP]

A lovely lovely poem of memories come to pass. So eloquently put. I like it so much and I wonder if it could be made any better by choosing a traditional form of prose by paragraphs down the page? I have recently found little snippets in time rather appealing X

[daninstockholm]

Thank you so much!! I'm thrilled you liked it!! I thought of paragraphs, but decided to keep it this way,, I usually don't question the form too much, let it take it's own shape, but this one was tricky, I admit, I was never sure about the form. .. Thank you so much for the input!!

[David Scott]

How I wished for her to have gone... Maybe the beyond will make the dreams germinate into a reality of some kind? Maybe? ( He sighs with hope rather than cynicism).
A very lovely write!

[daninstockholm]

yeah, me too, although of course, that was the hope of the ending. Thanks for the kind review, as always. I appreciate it very much!

[Kelly Scheppers]

Your attention to detail staggers my mind, Dan. This was so enchanting to read!

[daninstockholm]

Thank you so much, Kelly! I tried to paint a picture of her existence, the room she lived in, the way she used others letters to travel and experience without having done that herself. I'm very pleased you liked it!!