My soldier, my son, my loved one.

The envelope was the colour of the old leather couch I was sitting on, stained and worn. I held the thick rough paper sending his love, holding my loss.

He sailed to fight for his loves, his country, his Mother and his Wife.

Cherished letters of hope, of bravery and fear followed me home waiting patiently in my old tin letter box. My stomach would feel heavy when it was empty, my heart fluttered when it was full.

A bitterweet end to all his letters, 'until next time dear Mother', 'goodbye for now my love, my Wife'. The end came too soon my fingers searched for more at the bottom of the torn stained envelope. I raised the parchment to my nose hoping his smell travelled home with his words.

No longer does he write. My soldier, my son, my loved one.
My heart is heavy, sorrow takes my breath away, my love is endless.

Kimberley