Wednesday, 29 October 2014

The Postman

Waiting for the man is our business,
Though he may or may not come.
He may come but pass our place without a glance.
This means he has nothing for us as usual.
We still wait for the following day,
To wait for the man who may or may not come,
Look through the window for the gentleman,
With whom we are all in love.
As if he was the one who would decide on what we all want.
That gentleman whom we all long to see may not be seen for days,
This is something unbearable,
Yet we have no basis to complain.
We simply wait and wait for the gentleman,
With whom we are all in love,
Though he does not know us at all.
He is yet our hero,
Our hero if he shows up with that message,
The message we all wait to receive,
The message we all want to hear.
The gentleman may turn up, but with messages for old occupants,
Or probably with the junk letters to which we are not interested
Or he may come up with some in our names,
without him knowing that he can make or break our day.
The man we adore so much is the postman.

Written in May 2009

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