Sylvia

My neighbor of three years, off and on,
Calls me Sylvia although my name is Virginia.
I like the sound and do not correct her.
No one else will know for she speaks
To no one, complaining that all
Are cold and unfriendly.

How did she know that Sylvia would please,
That I would carry it all day
Like an old postcard found in a library book
Imagining Sylvia's life?

After dinner I tell my husband
That he may call me Sylvia if he wishes;
He slyly replies, "Who is she?"

[Undated poem by Virginia McKinnon Mann.]