He found it,
you see,
after she had died.
The blue ink smeared
by the tears she had cried,
the words of love she had lied,
folded between the letters she had denied
herself.
Unopened.
She took on a new name,
a new identity, free of shame.
She chose the name “Lilly”,
and thus felt loved, safe and pretty.
She was now ready to share,
waiting for him on the stair,
all that she felt, thought and wrote,
wearing, as usual, her Tuesday coat.
Hastening to catch up with him.
He found it,
you see,
with his name on it:
TIM
Wednesday 1 November 2006