Red letter days that make me feel loved

I’m about to write a letter, (An ancient art from long ago). With my pen poised above the paper I feel the words begin to flow. I’m writing to a dear old friend, But just as I’m about to start My family arrives to see me Which gladdens my old heart. My son says: ‘Are you writing letters, Mum? Send a text; it’s quicker you’ll see!’ I say: ‘I’ve been writing letters all my life — It’s second nature to me.’ My grandson says: ‘You need a laptop, Nan, It’ll correct your mistakes as well.’ I smile, recalling my schooldays, With pen, blotting paper and black ink in a well. They go. Safely stored in a special box I take out some letters that are mine. They’re very old and faded now But I’ve memorised each line. My dear, departed husband Put pen to paper long ago. These letters were witness to his feelings And signed, ‘With all my love, from Joe.’ His words float from the page and hug me, I see his face and feel him very near. I read his bold words on the paper And wipe away a salty tear. I know emails are very fast And phone calls really cheap. Ah, but a letter lasts for ever And will always be yours to keep.

Mrs Anita Bass, They don Bois, Essex.