In the UK, letterboxes tend to be slots with flap closures
Built into the front door of the house.
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A hole in my door I don’t need anymore It’s meant to allow mail to fall to my floor Ex-colleagues don’t call since the day I retired When I reached the age of ‘No longer required’ A hole in my door with flaps inside and out Never with one envelope sticking out These days I think it might even be great To receive a small note re the next village fete A hole in my door what’s the purpose of that Never one communique on my mat It seems that I’ve wound up on life’s storage shelf Should I perhaps send a note to myself A hole in my door that lets draughts in at night But no mail comes through it… does nobody write? I could seal it up… I’m quite sure I could do it For nobody visits… nobody calls through it This chilly spring morning it’s Valentine’s Day I look to my door and my heart tells me, “Hey!” The envelope, clearly, is not just a flyer For it says my name… not ‘The occupier’. Have I an admirer, my heart starts to race I open the letter in impatient haste I ask myself, “Who’s sending letters to you?” Then, writ large in red… ‘YOUR PAYMENT IS DUE!’
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