THE MISTRESS'S LETTER.

Anika wonders
What her mistress
Has written in the letter,

What words they are,
And to whom
They are addressed

In that fine hand of hers,
But unless she opens it up,
Steams it open

In the scullery
Away from prying eyes,
She'll never know

And will have to leave it
To guess work.
She takes the letter

In her hands,
Feels the stiffness
Of the envelope,

The scent lingering on it,
The fine line of the address,
But the name means nothing,

Except it's male,
But leaves the purpose
Of it a mystery still,

And she puts the letter
Into her apron pocket
And curtsying

Moves away

From her mistress's
Sight and thoughts.

Whom has she written to
Remains a nagging thought,
The letter almost burns a hole

In her apron pocket,
The temptation
To steam it open

Is like a demon's whisper,
She wants to know,
Not knowing is torment,

Is like a denied desire.
Anika holds the envelope

Tight in her hand,
Rushes out into the street
And posts the letter

Before the temptation
To open becomes too strong.
But the nagging thought remains,

What was it about?
Was it of love?
A love declared?

A meeting time and date?
She will never know now,
She has posted it; too late.