
sunny smile as they wheel her
away from sterile and white
another day she has borrowed
the meaning of life
***
the weeks she has counted
four weeks on one hand
the letters unwritten
envelopes left unstamped
***
back to her home now
to a box full of cards
people known just by name
soldiers distant and far
***
the cards they are missing
the stamps locked away
her children in the background
in agreement on this day
***
no more to write letters
a costly enterprise
we will save so much money
her purse never a large prize
***
her tears fall on parchment
not the old paper kind
her hands left to wither
as well as her mind
***

This poem is based on a letter I read of an infirmed woman who delighted in writing letters to soldiers far from home or in hospital. Her children…
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