When I am withered, old, and gray,
I will take a letter addressed to me
written by My Younger Self
out from a drawer.
The envelope reads, “Do not open until 2040!”
I will not remember the importance of this date.
(There is none)
Instead, I’ll ponder my age
and think about the year
this letter was written
Optimism was in short order.
In 2040, My Future Self will reveal a Sharpie from my pocket
or another brand of marking instrument, should Sharpie have merged or closed for business
(They will not have)
My Future Self will remove the cap
strike a clean line through the date on the envelope
and ink a new date in pre-elderly chicken scratch
Then I will smile,
and place the letter back in the drawer.
“Do not open until