I must be one of the last humans who still writes letters and postcards. From the archive, a poem about completing a letter while standing on the pavement next to a local postbox. This poem is included in my book, Emily’s Poems for Modern Boys.
Something for you – heads the blue card This something is it a poem? a sonnet, a verse, an enveloped ode? Your item is a parcel. It could not be delivered. No-one was at home on this date 14. Dec at this time 1pm for the verse? No the itemContinue reading “Without realising it, the postman leaves a poem”