It was a sunny day
in Wales

as it can only be
in picture postcards.

It was pinned
above her bed

but with the picture side
facing the wall

as if she had turned away
from that scene a long long time ago.

I had only ever
seen it once

(when she was asleep
I took a peek)

a scrawl of words
told her that it loved her

in a fadey violet ink

that could now barely be
discerned.

The postcard itself
as fragile as a leaf.

“Don’t turn it! ”
she pleaded in panic.

“I like to see his voice
in words! ”

running her fingertips
over his I LOVE YOU!

letting it speak
to her

from the fragile fading past

letting it speak
to her

even from beyond
his death.

Dónall Dempsey

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/his-voice-in-words/