Sentimentality Poem by H.E Warfield

I lost a letter today, a sentimental letter never to be duplicated.
Words never to be said, written or seen again.
God! You may as well burn all of my belongings too!
It feels as though the person who wrote it is dead.
How cruel and tricky is sentimentality.
I held onto these tangible words as though I feared I’d never comprehend them.

Comforting it is, to know, that somewhere in my being they’re etched.
Like drums and pipes the rage war when the silence comes to claim me.