She presses to herself the brown envelope
with her salary payment advice
her hours, her leave entitlement
taxes extracted and union dues.

She smiles a wide smile and breathes
deeply as if she is smelling violets
as she walks along the corridor
and the envelope is an autumn leaf.

She doesn’t think what an hour
equates to in terms of purchasing power.
She doesn’t think of life or money
as being on the same planet

but the envelope feels as good
and close to her as a fabulous fur
or diamonds in a jeweller’s box
or a spray of couriered orchids.