Old Letter

On your plain white envelope
a handwritten address
hints at the personal inside.
Long time companion
through many transfers and years,
you have been worked soft
and your stamp is loose
with use unimagined by your sender.
Hear me; be a conduit
back to her voice,
her obscure face.
Let my tears revive
your dried flower pages.
Let my holding you
be my holding her
so that some piece
of all the things lost, an ember
from the touch and intentions
can be found again.