The Post Box
This is mostly a comic poem but true love is a serious business. When I saw this post box outside of town here in France I knew I would write something. The wisteria are in full bloom right now.
photo by Laurie Easton Parker
The Post Box
The leather satchel
hung stylishly about his waist.
The post box
was deeply faded-
so many sun filled days.
From the envelope
the postman can smell
the perfume above his own.
A lipstick laden kiss
had been fervently pressed
across the rear flap,
like a royal red seal.
He carefully parts
the wisteria and slips
the envelope inside.
Descending the steps
he smooths the fresh creases
in his pants and wonders
about the man
who lives beyond that
faded and peeling green door
with rusting ironwork.
How can he inspire
such ardent love
when he fails so miserably
at maintenance work?
12/22
another poem to look at below. I’m trying out some cross pollination.
Raise The Grain
Raise The Grain Before the final sanding, the grain must be dealt with. The summer and winter or the dry and monsoon. Rings of growth must be dealt with. Wet them down, let them dry and sand that which rises above his broth…
Think of all the love thwarted by surly postmen
I wish you would have described what a whiff of wisteria did to the mail carrier. Very well done though.