Unbroken Seal

The envelope, flat,

a thin, pale blue square.

Her hand, a faint scratch,

a name written there.

Postmarked before

the hospital call.

A faint, yellowed stamp,

just to stand after all

those years in a box,

among bills, paid and old.

A word for a triumph

my mind can't now hold.

It feels like a door

I chose not to try,

and now there's no opening

but to stare at the sky.

What good is the comfort

if it comes in too late?

Just the weight of the paper,

a sealed, quiet fate.