It was a sunny day
in Wales
as it can only be
in picture postcards.
It was pinned
above her bed
but with the picture side
facing the wall
as if she had turned away
from that scene a long long time ago.
I had only ever
seen it once
(when she was asleep
I took a peek)
a scrawl of words
told her that it loved her
in a fadey violet ink
that could now barely be
discerned.
The postcard itself
as fragile as a leaf.
“Don’t turn it! ”
she pleaded in panic.
“I like to see his voice
in words! ”
running her fingertips
over his I LOVE YOU!
letting it speak
to her
from the fragile fading past
letting it speak
to her
even from beyond
his death.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-voice-in-words/
