PelhamToday received the following letter from the reader who submitted her poetry to the Voice of Pelham, now PelhamToday:
Once upon a time, in a quaint little village previously called Temperanceville, now called the booming Town of Pelham, a senior lady (whose husband had recently passed on and whose daughter, who, through poor health, remained in her room) sat alone in her living room, not totally alone, but with Sam, her frisky cat, who kept her company when he wasn't getting into mischief.
To keep her spirits up, especially during Covid, this senior relied on her attempts at writing poetry. Her thoughts and words did, indeed, keep her company through many long months. She found a wonderful outlet in a local publication, The Voice of Pelham. She was extremely happy. But all good things must end, so she had often been told, and the Voice became no more. Now PelhamToday speaks about anything and everything, but not included in the quaintness of puzzles and poetry and recipes too.
The old lady is sad. Her poetry was and still is a vital outlet for feelings, emotions and memories. These are sometimes better kept to oneself, sometimes nice to be shared. This letter is intended to thank the editor for all the years he published the author's endeavours and to those who read her work and responded by phone or by email. Their kind words were most encouraging. I will still write for my family and friends. It is a gift, so I am told—one which I treasure.
S.M. Lazareth
Fonthill
