My husband has faced these issues over the years. He started by writing love poems to me when we were courting. He has written poems reflecting his views on life, his faith in God, his fabulous sense of humor. We have files of them. One hangs on our bedroom wall. Someday I know he will publish his own collection.

 

In the meantime, I decided to create a “Paperbag Poet” in my novel, Crestmont. Main character Gracie Antes, a lonely housemaid at the bustling Crestmont Inn in the 1920s, pulls out a dresser in a guest room to clean out the cobwebs. A yellowed, wrinkled paper bag drops to the floor with the words “From Johnny, 1909” written on it in scrawly letters. Gracie hides the bag in her cleaning bucket until she can steal back to her room to read the contents.

 

Later that night in the privacy of her room she pulls out one love letter after another from Johnny to an unnamed lover. Yearning for love herself, Gracie becomes emotionally attached to Johnny even though she has no clue who he was or if he is still alive. The words he writes jump off the page straight to her heart.

 

Here is the first poem Gracie reads:

 

 

 

© Ernest L. Whitehouse