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.
Dead.
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.

---

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality. Find Lynn at: https://lynnwhitepoetry.blogspot.com and on Facebook.

---

To continue enjoying poems like this one and support our writers, please consider donating to Silver Apples Magazine.