The Postman

He leaves his bike beside the hedge and steps up to the door

A barking dog will greet him there, he knows which house it’s at

His bag is full of cheer and shock, they don’t want any more

There’s birthday cards and letters and brown ones on the mat

 

For some are made to make you smile, for all they have to say

The photographs of little ones, they’ll grow before you know

They tell you all that’s happened in a country far away

They make you smile, they make you sigh, and say they miss me so

 

The brown ones with the windows, you leave them for a while

You recognise the writing on the red one straight away

It’s from a friend, a dear old friend, you always know her style

She’s never missed a birthday or something nice to say

 

You make some tea and brace yourself, the window one in hand

You want to leave it for a while but open it you must

As time is ever passing no use for head in sand

No one has died, so take a breath, no need to get so fussed

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