The letter

Letter slot in an iron-studded wooden door, York, England.

For the Writers Island prompt, "the letter," a poem about memories invoked by a love letter. I wrote this poem quickly; it still needs work. But I've been too busy to participate in Island prompts the past two or three weeks and didn't want to miss another. To appease my perfectionist tendencies, let's call this a first draft:

The letter was written
in your trademark green ink,
a fine distinctive script
on heavy cream vellum.

You pressed it into my hands
that morning at the airport,
urging me not to read it
until I was on the plane.

Your words spoke of undying love
and made promises that would go unfulfilled,
even with the best intentions,
because timing is everything.

Waiting impatiently,
longing for the mail:
envelopes stuffed with pages of prose,
revealing how much you missed me.

Romantic reassurances
until we met again
in some foreign capital
for a honeymoon of sorts.

You phoned from Madrid
and talked about London;
then there was New York, Miami,
and glittering foreign capitals.

The shopping trips
where you offered anything I wanted,
in a bid to compensate for long absences
and preserve the status quo.

Remember the expensive designer suit
I returned to Saks Fifth Avenue
to buy a plane ticket
and surprise you in Miami?

The embroidered, bejeweled dress
you chose at the Kuwait souk?
It was your favourite colour;
you never noticed it didn't suit me.

Simply a matter of time,
we lied to ourselves,
until the many reunions ended
and I'd become your wife.

But the longer the space
between visits,
the less appealing that
prospect appeared.

You chose the marble floors
of that beautiful villa, without consulting me.
The house was nearly finished, when I saw
what might have become my golden cage.

All these years later,
that grand family villa
remains unloved and empty.
A caretaker lives in a nearby shack

to guard against more broken dreams
and preserve the architectural showpiece
haunted by ghostly illusions
of living happily ever after.

Comments

[Madeline]

very bittersweet. made my heart ache. it's beautifully written.

[Captain Cat]

This was really lovely Tara. Filled with love and longing and bittersweet memories. Thanks for sharing this.

[Tumblewords]

These words move so well and tell so much. How wise and yet somehow a little melancholy. Great job!

[Amber]

This is wonderful. And such a story...

:)

[Michelle Johnson]

Your first draft was well written and heartfelt. I am glad you saw what was to be early on. All to often people in relationships think they can make it work when they really need to just walk away, like you. A strong voice came through your poem today. Thanks for sharing.

Thank you for commenting on 51 Train. Have a nice day.

[Cre8Tiva]

wow...this gave me chills...blessings, rebecca

[marja]

wow very beautiful poem, and very intriguing how one can put his own dream onto another soul, to put you as you nicely said in a golden cage. How good that you got the time to become aware of it before it was to late. Excellently written

[chiefbiscuit]

You've said so much and painted so many revealing images in so few words. It must be a poem! And a good one too.

[annieelf]

That sad time is still haunting you. Formative experience. The beginning of a beautiful hommage to him.

[tinker]

Oops - I hit send too soon - I meant to also say, Wonderful writing, as always, Tara! ~xOx

[tinker]

What a close call that seems to have been - a golden cage is still a cage after all, no matter how lovely the view, or the words lining the bottom of the cage...
~ xo

[keith hillman]

Everything I wanted to say has already been said! Once again a great piece of writing

[Mary Timme]

Ummmmm! I didn't get to do a post for WI today so I doubly enjoyed yours. This is magnificent in it pathos of lost dreams and it being a good thing. For money rots!

[Frida]

So we'll call it a really, really good first draft. I'm left with feelings hanging over, but in the good way.

[Robin]

Welcome back! I too was away the past few weeks. It's good to be back, isn't it?

Your poem reminds me so of an earlier me. The particulars were different, but the feeling and the outcome the same. We're still in touch, and I often end those long-distance phone calls with a feeling of relief at a bullet dodged.

[marita]

short personal lines of places and moments that filled your life for years, engraved in your mind like petrified fossils.
i hope you still have the letters tara!

[melissa @ the inspired room]

How beautiful!

[Jo]

This is very good, first draft or no, so many tasty lines, excellent movement too.

[UL]

You always manage to stir my heart with your posts, and you say this is only a first draft!! The emotions come through so clearly, 'golden cage' rings in my ears, glad you escaped, even though you may not have wanted to at the yime.That was superb, Tara, thank you.

[cherie]

Letters are wonderful...they hold promises, they hold dreams, they hold memories...and words are the key to the mind, the heart, the soul. I love what you have written...if this is a first draft I am eager to see what more you could do with this...the photograph was very evocative!

[Brian]

A beautiful love poem Tara. I really could feel the desire wane and fade.

Hope you have time to enjoy your holiday season.

[Randal Graves]

Few things can top the sending and receiving of a letter. But I'm not sure the old soul in me could ever use the word "internet" in a poem. :)