Even after all these years, I still carry it in my breast pocket, always close to my heart, and it is just as good as a portrait--perhaps, even better. Time and time again, I re-read it: this old postcard, with its now faded picture on the front and his handwriting on the back, the traces of lead pencil still spelling out--with such intimate sweetness!--the words thine own. And so, time and time again, I cherish this feeling, this bond I still know to be true, for both of us--for as long as we live, and beyond... and forever.