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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The Telegraph by Gabriel Magno © 2014 The baby wakes the puppy, as she twists its little nose, the mother drinking coffee, mends a small run on her hose. The mailman rings the doorbell, rising up she stops her chore, a telegram presented slowly, she smiles and shuts the door. As she reads quietly, a frightful look distorts her face, and then a shrilling scream, as her heart begins to race. “We’re sorry to inform you, of your husband’s loss of life”, the message from the army, cuts her heart as with a knife. Unsteady hands reach for the child, who lays atop the family dog, her tears fall on baby's smiling face, her mind confused as in a fog. The nights of making love, the days of sharing laughter, come to a sudden painful end, from this day ever after. The mailman returned once more, a telegram in hand, “how it was stuck inside my bag, I just don’t understand”. She thanked him, closed the door and wondered what it said, silently she read the message, her husband was not dead. “We’re happy to inform you, your husband’s still alive”, the message read, “was one of few who did survive”. “The battle in the shallow gorge, where many brave men laid”, “accept our deep apology, this error in haste was made.” And so the cloud had lifted from high above her head, and soon again she’ll lay, beside her husband in their bed. The mailman on his daily route, will once again bring to the door, those telegrams, to wives and lovers, of those who live no more.
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