A Letter to You My Dear; released in ink and tears

Fresh memories crowd and cut,
like so many knives,
bleeding out sorrow from myne eyes;
you were beautiful,
you were precious,
now your gone.

Gone, on to some other realm,
to whatever your heart was set on,
away from life, friends, family;
away from me.

I had no last goodbye,
before that final breath,
but there was so much left for me to say;
words of laughter, joy and regret,
how will they reach you now?

A sudden thought,
one last chance,
to tell you what’s on my mind;
ill write a letter,
a letter to you my dear,
a letter which love will guide.

I’ll start by the fire,
in you favourite chair,
soaking up your presence here,
releasing my memories,
one by one,
slowly drawn out,
here they come;

our first glance across a crowded beach,
when i knew i was for you;

that time we laughed so hard we cried
and cried the whole night through;

when your favourite watch was broken,
that was me, I’m so sorry;

how i forgot to say goodbye sometimes,
and left you back home worrying.

All these and many more,
the pen slick with tears
the page with ink,
until myne eyes are dry;
nothing more to give
except my love,

I watch as tear and ink dry,
by the fire in your chair,
and feel the weight of the paper,
more than a million backs could bear.
But as I think,
my head feels clearer,
spirits lifted,
as the fire burns it carries them high
away into the night.

The final page crackles with released tension.

The air lightens, dawn is breaking,
I rush out into the glory of that first morning;
the perfect dew the whistling robin,
and as I look up at the house,
where we lived for so many years,
i see the ashes of your letter,
flying high,
flying out,
the memories that I no longer bear
but treasure.

I smile;

have no fear,
they’ll be with you in a while,
my dear.

A Letter to You My Dear; released in ink and tears


Chobham, United Kingdom

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 16

Artist's Description

I wrote this for a friend who told me how her mother coped, to what extent you can with these things, with the death of her father. She was given advice to write a letter to him, containing all the things she did not have a chance to say before he died, and upon finishing this letter she burnt it. The letter gave her a much needed release, and i thought the idea was so beautiful that i had to try and write something on it. This is my first attempt at properly sitting down to write something in more than one sitting, and i hope i have given this toucing sentiment justice.

Artwork Comments

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