For Lee


You told me about your friend

Who stamped and wrote her address

On hundreds of postcards

And left them all over the place: wherever she went, wherever she’d been –

With a message asking for messages

To be sent to her from the strangers who picked them up.


They picked them up.

They drew, they wrote, they scribbled, they doodled

They told her all sorts: stories, secrets

They confessed –

How they must have felt

To know that someone was behind the curtain,



How she must have felt

When she came down each morning

To find them waiting for her

Like family.

Like love.