A Postcard from Naples

Post card from Naples.

Almost silently it fell upon the doormat,
a rectangular pasteboard,
Creased on one corner,
The stamp, hanging off.

I heard the letterbox close,
a muted snap of metal against wood,
before the rattle and clang of the iron gate outside,
as the postal person went upon their weary way.

Descending the stair I picked it up,
and glancing at it,
noted a view of Naples,
the sea faded to a bluey pink.

I placed it on the pile of unopened bills,
my mind filled with breakfast, coffee,
and another day, in the madhouse of life.
A postcard, so what?

It was much later when it caught my eye again,
and my curiosity was raised.
Who today would send me a postcard,
and, exactly why?

I read it, then read it once again,
and a tear appeared upon my cheek.
A message of joy, from so very far away,
as I considered what might have been.

The falling stamp was old, the value just a fraction of that today,
the ink faded from time, and now shrouded in dust and dirt.

The card was ages old, just as was I now,
But the script familiar, and the message short.
‘I wish you were here, and holding me’.

Nothing more, but just the name I knew so well,
and never would forget,
signed with a single kiss.

We never met again, but now my life was complete,
by a message from the past, from someone dear to my heart,
who had perished, those very many years ago,
beneath a blazing Italian sun.

Better late than never, but I still remember
those delightful days of hope and joy,
and,
I cry for you.


KD-H 2026 copyright.