It now adorns her fridge.
The details of its origin can only be guessed at. We can conclude it’s old, though — that cursive writing can only be a relic of an age when computer keyboards were not heavily relied upon.
I am tagging “Harry Brandenburg” and “Mary Hunley” (?) in this post. It would be wild if some future google search by them or their loved ones alerted them to the fact that this long ago sentiment is still enjoyed by others. Message in a bottle.
My good friend Jaine Sirieys posted this yesterday. It’s powerful, and I love it.
“What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why”
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 