The Deposition

Order and context would have helped structure the find

A diary would have dated it, a letter located it

But this was just a fragment of parchment

To find it so well concealed though, as if some hoard

Served both to perplex and confound

The intrigue being so compelling, I took to sleuth hounding

Five sentences in near copperplate

The writer making no demands and leaving no signature

But simply repining for lost purpose, and lost love

In still vivid blue/ black ink

From the regular use of serifs, I detect a female hand

She tells of fair weather, on return from church

And wonders, in the phraseology of the period

Why her heart feels heavy in her breast

While friends chuckle, and birdsong fills the air

I deduce that she has employed that oft'-used device

Of transferring pain from her soul

Via a scrap of paper, to a final resting-place behind this firebrick

Thus, releasing her spirit to roam free

And spin the wheel again