The Envelope

I remember a cold wet day last year,

Addressed to yours truly.

From out of the grey, wet morning,

I heard the clatter of the letterbox,

And went rather sleepily to see.


And there rested on the doormat,

A single small, brown and rather damp envelope,

Was it a bill perchance?

Franked from outa-space!

I picked it up and shook at its contents, quite bemused.


It could contain almost anything,

Probably no love letter though, I thought.

The imagination began to whirl,

Brown letters don’t contain much joy!

I surely wasn’t expecting anything today.


It rattled with sound.. how intriguing,

Something I’d purchased online perhaps?

Something like tiny buttons, so it seemed?

So I opened it, in the way we open brown envelopes.

(I dispensed with the letter opener years ago).


I tore at the paper actually,

Being one, quite curious in nature.

What could this mystery be?

Something most peculiar, obviously.

Something sent, especially.


I emptied the contents on the table,

A variety of coloured dusty pills fell out,

And then I knew!

Attached was a note inside, which read.

‘These are the pills for a loveless life’.