The Letter

This could be a true story Before I'm through you'll feel that way I sit on a bench beneath the shade In the park eating lunch most everyday It's been going on two weeks now That I've watched that girl walk by Normally a plain girl like her Would never have caught my eye But there was something about her That for days I could not grasp The look of anticipation that she had Didn't match the hesitation in her step You see there's this P.O. Box in the park On the far upper east side After visiting she would leave each day With disappointment as her guide Without really knowing her I can't be sure of what it is she's looking for Perhaps a letter from a lover Or a husband off to war But this day it was different As she reached her hand inside Pulling out that for which she had waited What now seems like all her life With a look of total elation She jumped up and down awhile The joy beyond contagious I could not help but break into a smile No longer in her step, the hesitation She tore at the envelope with anticipation On the bench next to me she sat At the turn of her life's transformation The first tear it dropped and found its mark Upon the pages as she read A world oblivious to the pain inside As the birds chirped overhead Disappointment came back to guide her So much had changed since it last held her hand This time life it held no purpose As she strolled away, the living dead She left behind the tear stained note Dare I even try To gaze into the only clue Of this now tragic life As I reached out for the letter A breeze blew in from the South And took with it that longing clue To what this tragedy was all about Nowadays I sit here on this lonely bench I never saw that girl again But my mind often goes back and wonders About the letter and what it held within