So she wrote love letters
That never reached
She wrote till ink ran out
Wrote until nibs wore out
For the page was a heart,
Stubborn, relentless, unceased.

Bundled in some trunk
Now her letters lie
The perfume faded
Ink dissipated
Yellowed by a world,
That one cannot rely.
What remains of her letters
I cannot tell 
Just a passerby
Who’s pained to think
That undelivered letters
Await his eye.

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