Old Mailbox

This morning, I found a photo on a blog new to me. That photo can be viewed here. I responded to this photo with a quickly written poem.

Old Mailbox

Rusted, battered
by generations of rain,
the old mailbox

tilts on its perch
above the twisted weeds
like a grey man

resting on his cane,
heavy with memory,
love and tragedy

clutching the folds
of envelopes
and bright stamps.

 

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3 thoughts on “Old Mailbox

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