Small hands made this.
I can tell, because it’s made of Lego.
And the note’s in faded colour.
I think I had these gel pens too.

“Hello” say the faded words
They cannot spell ‘millennium’.
“I hope you like my unicorn,
I live with my dad and mum.”

I wonder – should I put this back?
Should it sleep again for decades more?
Until the hands that trace these coins
Don’t find them so familiar.

I rent the back room here, ground floor.
One studio flat, a little garden.
The house partitioned, no space now
For dad and mum and little Morgan.

“We are very happy here.”
She writes to me, from childhood.
“My favourite is the library van!
I think the future will be good.”

Morgan may be out these somewhere,
Renting someone else’s home.
I carefully reseal the box,
And place it back beneath the loam.

The note I folded, repacked, buried,
But I kept a little hope behind
A gift to me from this optimistic child
Like myself, in an earlier time.