The sound of words

She carefully tore the sides of the dull white coloured envelope which was tainted by numerous stamps. She anticipated a heavy amount of words from the external appearance of the cover, but she was wrong.
When she slided out the material, she saw six sheets and four lines.
No, she did not know what this meant, this had never happened before. Partly shocked, partly curious she first glanced through the umblemished empty pages stapled together twice, thrice and once more. Then she got back to the first page which was addressed to her. Four lines in malformed cursive letters in jet black ink. But never had he (in all these years) written a letter to her. Never.
Bringing her eyes close together and slipping her glasses a few centimeters lower she began to read. She was utterly confused and could not make sense of those words. She lifted the papers to her nose and recognized the familiar fragrances. Yes, it smelled of a concoction of various medicines, naphthalene balls and his old mouldy mattress where he probably rested them. But this time the fragrance was unusually strong.
Something suddenly struck her, and she quickly went through it again. She looked pale, breathless and in a moment she was perfectly still.
She placed herself on her chair and threw her head back. Lit a cigerette and flicked it. The virgin ash poured over like fireworks onto a brass plate saying PUBLISHER in perfectly symetrical block letters.

Dear Janet

I may have never heard the echo of my own voice if it wasn't for you.
If you hadn't recognized that i too could speak.
If u hadn't the insight, you too would have rendered me mute.
You are my true renaissance.

yours
Bard