Perhaps it was for me she wrote.
A silent message.
It was late last Wednesday morning
Wet, ragged and faded from the rain.
Contents barely recogonised
Except 'hello Antoinette'
In a hurry.
I tossed my new jacket.
Beneath the larger bench.
The oldest of two.
Four feet in length.
The hard wood chipped.
Well used to it's fullest from those much older.
Pens and pencil drawings dimmed in the faded light.
Yet could not find the words to share.
Still lasting memories to share.