Take a look and see,

What your letters,

Do to me.

Making me cry,

Weep, teary-eyed.

Handwritten,

In pigmented ink.

Forcing me to think,

Reading between

The lines, to find,

Clear meaning.

Dreaming,

Of writing back,

Though I lack,

The sense to send

Letters to end

The correspondence.

Something magic.

It's awfully tragic.

That the letters

You mail,

Pass through

The veil.

Since death

Had taken you.