Letter in a Brown Envelope

2012
tucked by tender hands into the auburn hued envelope;
painless childhood fantasies about the yonder ahead
are penned on your chalk-white body,
sealed to be revealed thirty winters later.

2016
amongst the scurrying of a dozen feet
and pyramids of boxes,
you were engulfed beneath who knows what.
Only when the modest autumn breeze waltzed in you showed your face—though unbeknownst to a soul—
a dash of auburn within the stash.

2017
vexation had stolen the original naivety of her complexion as she rummaged through draws and cupboards—
and though you can feel it, you cannot act,
for you have no feet nor arm nor leg nor hand,
nor spring wind to lift you from your hiding.

2082
‘twas one day when morning was nigh,
a sudden infant squeal awoke her.
as she rose and pulled her snow locks to one side she saw
in the petite fingers squeezed an auburn object—
a tattered thing, so foreign but yet familiar.
something faint and distant echoed in her heart,
and so she read it aloud under the radiant summer light,
prune-like fingers tracing along the faded lines:
‘The year is 2012, and it is snowing…’