The parcel arrived with the postmark of Moscow stamped

across the brown,

undisturbed wrapping,

containing digital

information, music that had caught my ear as I surfed online

for something new to enthuse my world once more.

Unlike the day I first read Das Kapital, now residing on a dusty shelf

next to my Great-grandmother’s Gold leaf Guernsey Bible,

a copy of the Koran, the best of Punch and a much loved

set of drumsticks, yours by far the best as they slowly splinter

and decay as we all must.