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’.