Once I left a letter
in the folds of a book
and forgot all about it.
Days after dust had gathered
when I pulled it out
to survive one draughty afternoon,
out fell a square piece of
neatly folded paper.
A letter I had stowed away
which you had written to me.
I do not remember you lover!
A blurry face peeks at me
from a crowd of faces
I've taken to various places
inside me.
Doorstep, foyer
nooks and crannies
Bed chamber or the attic.
I picked it up unknowing that
the smell of old memory
lurked in the folds of your letter.
Filling me with a longing
for a place I've never been
Or may be once in a dream
seen a tiny cottage on a lonely hill
with yellow lights in the window
and a silhouette of a woman
who hovers unsure, from room
to room, looking for a prayer book
in a cottage under somnolent stars.
