Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Driving to Town Late to Mail a Letter

Written by: Robert Bly | Biography
It is a cold and snowy night.
The main street is deserted.
The only things moving are swirls of snow.
As I lift the mailbox door I feel its cold iron.
There is a privacy I love in this snowy night.
Driving around I will waste more time.

Comment below this ad.