My dearest Anne,
I saw this during my last trip to the city, its beauty reminded of you. The flaming heart on the front is like my heart, burning for you during these times apart. The gold accents painted around the whole piece light me up just like you do. There are these gorgeous oil paintings inside. I do think I like your paintings more. They remind me of the painting you did of the view of the field from the window. A flask of Wine, a Book of Verse—and Thou he says, can you imagine, Anne. The two of us relaxing under that old willow tree on the hill. Do you remember that night, we had a few too many sips of wine, and I tried to recreate your paintings. I never knew someone could be so horrible at something as I am at painting. The vines that frame the pages are bright green, just like my envy for your talent! I spent a few moments reading the poetry inside and I knew I had to get it for you. This man, Omaar Khayyam, writes the most beautiful words, and I think it’s only fair that the most beautiful woman reads them. I cannot wait to hear your thoughts upon my return. I hope your tea and paints stain the pages as they stain your heart.
Lo! Some we loved, the loveliest and the best.
I’ll be home soon,
My Anne, the loveliest, and the best.