It’s grim up North
chilly on Adrian’s balls.
a rediscovered Roman rubbish
dump
has been uncovered.
But what garbage.
Such treasure.
The ordinary everyday
turned into
the stuff of museums.
But the fort at Vindalandia
was also in times gone past
a Roman mailbox.
A treasure of letters
written in Latin
on wood shavings.
Letters from the past
finally arrive at last.
“Dearest Blah Blah & Blah
...am sending you a parcel
of socks, shoes &
underpants! ”
Priceless.
The letters finally get delivered
to the 20th century.
Nothing changes much
since then.
It’s grim up North
chilly on Adrian’s balls.
Just one more note to say I'm enjoying your writing and sense of history, the eternity that always meets us in the present tense.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
its a beaut donall! know the letters well that you mention. love that - 'nothings changed' idea.