Waiting On Fate
A mailbox opens and a lady sings.
A hummingbird across the land hears her songs of sorrow,
for yet another empty mailbox
is never a good thing.
A man lies next to a sea dyed with red.
He sings, and he wonders
whether it is worse to hear then,
his sergeant lean down with sadness
like the sun in a day of mist
and say "You lived a full life, soldier,"
or to imagine the letter
his wife must soon have to open.
Inch by inch, the red sea grows.
Mile by mile, a letter soars
like a crow bearing bad news.
The bittersweet hand of death
is already upon a man, and it is too late.
For the first time in years, a single snowflake falls
like a glimmer of hope floating towards the ground.
A mailbox opens,
but a lady does not sing...
for maybe an empty mailbox
was not such a bad thing.
Share This Poem