I logged offline. Went outside for some sun.
Then I opened my book. I was hoping for fun.
I checked out the horizon, and to my distain,
I saw lightning. I heard thunder. I felt small drops of rain.
I frowned to myself and thought things could be better.
I went inside for a while and wrote you a letter.
Not a long one, but a short one and that dear, was hard,
to fit my mad ramblings in a tiny square card.
Then when I finished scribbling, again I found sorrow,
Mailing your letter. Would happen not till tomorrow.
He came early. Our postman, she�s not very kind.
So tomorrow I�ll give her a piece of my mind.
I said, �Your schedule is wacky, up and down like Yo-Yo's,
Are you just like the police, taking breaks to eat Ho-Ho�s?
Your employer is greedy. He fills my heart full of hate,
when every third Wednesday he hikes the stamp rate.�
Her eyes started blinking, she scrunched up her face,
I could swear she was reaching for her can of mace.
So I quickly retreated, screamed have a nice day.
She revved her jeeps motor. I got out of her way.
She left leaving skid marks. Just missing my toes.
Anger turned my two cheeks, from pink to bright rose.
As I rolled down the hill my temper was steaming,
of killing this postman, �twas what I was dreaming.
So I thought for a moment, then said �what the heck,�
and grabbed me a noose for her long scrawny neck.
So she has until Thursday, to meet my satisfaction,
Or sometime on Friday I�ll spring into action.
So don�t hesitate, please don�t cause me stress,
be a tad more efficient, then the Pony Express.
Deliver my letter, and, do it with speed.
Or a coffin, dear postman, is what you will need.
Brian Bressler � 2002