As I sit in the musty library
In a once great house
I read, not one of the
leather-bound tomes
That fill the shelves
from floor to ceiling
But a collection of
letters
Neatly tied in ribbons
And they take my
breath away
For each page is part
of a remarkable story
About a most
extraordinary couple
And their exceptional
love story
For this lovingly
devoted couple
Never met
Yet their love was
evident
In their personnel
correspondence,
No in their Love
letters
Let’s say it how it is
The flowery words of
an affaire d’amour
Echoed in the
calligraphy on every page
Each billet doux
More affectionate and
romantic than the previous
They bill and coo on
every page
Each lovingly
constructed sentence
Heavily laced with
innuendo
Subtle yet explicit at
the same time
Flavoured with
delicious nuances
Flirtatious and
lustful
Romantic and
affectionate
A love of such purity
Not for its pureness
of thought
But for the absence of
any hope of physicality
She was an invalid,
bed ridden
He a subject of an
enemy state
So, she couldn’t go to
him
He couldn’t come to
her
They could never meet,
would never meet
So, they made love via
correspondence
An affair lasting more
than forty years
Only ending with his
death
His dying wish that
her letters be returned to her
So that they at least
should lie together
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