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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