Letters I sent to your door

Did you live on at No 43 and receive the letters that I sent, wishing you were here with me? Were they delivered to your hand and read of our time together as I wrote with you in mind? Did you age at No 43? Did you keep the key to our door? Did it open to the world indoors, timeless and still as I once remembered before? Seems now there is no soul to respond to my presence at your door. I guess the letters keep piling inside collecting memories of what was once before, a friendship, a story, a life together now lost.