September 8, 1947

Dearest—

I drank two big glasses

of water, washed my face

with soap. Out in the sunny

yard, as white as a miracle—

the day wore on. It’s a sign.

With some misgivings I took

to the papers. I had quite

a desertion. Makes it nice—

I have time now to write. 

From your very own,

Sylvia-girl