The Letter

Cleaning the cupboard
In the house we shared.
Cleaning out the things
For which I never cared.

A rusted pin, a broken pen,
A reciept of the laundry
And suddenly I discovered
A letter that you sent me.

It spoke of things I remember not,
You wrote when you were far away,
Of things long past which I forgot,
But I remember now, I remember that day.

You talked of wonders that you saw.
You wrote of things all new.
I kept it in the box full of others.
Now these are the cherished few.

A few days later I got another
And this would be the last.
It was from a lawyer saying
That you had died in the blast.

He offered me solace,
He said he understood,
But I listened to none
For I knew he never would.

I was sad. I was dead,
I was just quiet.
Forgetting you was not easy
Even though I did try it.

But that is all past and gone,
Though you shall never be
And I burn this letter hoping you'll get it
And maybe will remember me.