Your letters tell me you are well
and to make sure I understand
there are some drawings from your hand
of flowers and of churches too.
The words are chosen with much care
and all of this makes me aware
this is no longer you at all.
Your letters tell me nothing’s well
between the lines I read goodbyes
I see your honest, caring eyes
and how you struggle to find ways
of letting go in friendly words
but every kind syllable hurts
this is no longer us at all.