empty mailbox

Oh Mr. Mailman, how you disappoint me.

Your faithfulness is a legend highly revered and sacredly clung to...at least by me.

In a world of change, you are one who is steadfast, determined, permanent.

Like the idolized knights of old, your profession is one of chivalry and immutability.

"Through snow and sleet, through rain and shine" - that is what you promised. And a promise is a promise.

Yet what is this? What can it be? The snow is falling, the ice is treacherous - the stage is set, lights dim, the audience holds their breath. Yet in what could be your most glorious triumph, you shy away, your courage dwindles, you stay at home in comfort and lethargy.

Oh where is your bravery? Oh where is your resolve?

The day is drawing to an end, and still that black box, so often brimming with glad tidings and exciting news, is empty and silent.

I sit in my chair, my head filled with disappointed hopes and crushed ideals.