Every year a letter flies across the seas,
Lavender scented,
Carrying a gentle query,
And a warm wish:
'How are you keeping?
I hope this finds you happy and well.'
At the back, almost an afterthought,
'Please return to sender,
if not delivered.'
To the love of her life,
Met then, but parted many decades ago.
The perfume, his first gift,
The second, more precious,
Selfless love that fills her being.
The letters were never returned.
She wishes for a reply
That never came.
Now she fervently hopes
The letters will never return;
An impersonal message that he is
Happy and well.
