Moisture beads the little card that fell 
As the mailman thrust my bills into the box
Leaving this scene of a beach to brave the storm.
A rip lifts the gloss from the cardboard sands
And the tears flow over sea frozen harder than ice
An echo of waves and time, like a popular song.
On the back, the preprinted text still clings uselessly,
But penned words, sender, address have melted into streams of blue
That flow in drips down to the dirt. No way to unwind
The sense from the drift, reconcentrate intent,
Anonymous dismay drowns what the scribbles meant.
The small blue ocean reclaims the sense 
As the sea edits the sand and the shells.