the letter

a letter
arrives in the mail
with no forwarding
address.
it's hand
written. you don't
recognize the handwriting,
but how could you?
it's addressed to you.
you shake your
head and hold
it up
to the light. you
flip it over, then
over again, studying
it's contents.
it's a letter,
oh my god,
you say to yourself.
who would write
a letter, using
a pen and ink
with words and full
sentences written
down with
their own hand?
you don't know
what to do with it.
you want to read
it, but you
don't want to
rip the envelope
or unfold the mystery
of what it
could say.
you grab a plastic
bag out
of the kitchen
and place
the letter inside.
you smooth it
down and stare at
it. you want
to call and tell
people about this,
but you don't.
you smile and savor
this precious moment.
you have a letter,
a hand written letter
from someone you may
or may not know. it's
right here in your hand.