Call

A clump of eager helmets clusters round the mail.
Names are called. Treasures grasped from home.
Unsealed in a quiet corner. Clasped in calloused hands.
Reverently unfolded.
Returning me to scenes of a saner world.
Where tough is not required. Where grim is not routine.
Fragments of respite in this brutal asylum.
seldonna seldonna
56-60
Sep 15, 2012