Memories from the Attic

I hold an empty envelope

Its contents, long lost to time
A letter of declaration
A proclamation
A cherished confession
A confirmation
A cause for celebration

Missing substance,
The cover still feels heavy to the hand 
An uninhabited piece of packing
Dog eared, scuffed, tattered and musty
The ink on the address label faded
The sender and her handwriting, a trace
The paper, sepia
Like my memories

All that remains is this empty envelope
I hold in my hands

In my hands
I hold an empty heart