Twelve Zero Three

The December summer is over.
No more bare feet, nor shorts; no more cotton dresses.
No more raising our windows, to let in the fresh air.
Winter, finally, had arrived!

In the Post Office, Me
All bundled up against the cold.
A coat . . ., with a fur lined hood,
Gloves, knee high socks, under wool pants, and boots.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw another in the lobby.
I turned to the lady, to “remark” about the cold.
Then I saw it, her.

She had no shoes, only sandals,. . . no socks, . . .not even stockings.
She wore only a short sleeved dress, one for the summer.

Understandably? . . . I decided against my remark.
The lady was mailing something, to Progress Energy? . . . for heat?!!!!!

I turned away, almost in shame; went to the counter.
I still wanted to say something: . . . come home with me?
. . . let me buy you a coat? . . .what? . . . I didn’t know what.

I turned again, she had disappeared.
. . . like the December summer.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem