A Letter

A letter came today addressed to someone
     with my name,
I put it in its own little pile
     beside the discards,
Upon a glass table in the corner
     of my quaint study,
Seen from the floor I wonder
     by what hand it came,
The words are not soldiers on guard
     digitally made,
But from something living
     without a name,
So there it shall stay.





To The Beginning