The Postman Cometh
My prankster, older son, came home from college, just the other day.
He saw such great possibilities, in how, he, with the Trolls, could play.
Now, you must remember, my son, has always been, a tad bit wild.
But, he truly is a charmer, when he has a new brainchild, compiled.
The Postman had been so Leary of dropping off mail, with the Trolls about.
So daily, I would greet him, explaining, they were really harmless, big old louts.
And I complained a little, of the time spent, to convince him, back at the house.
So my son took up the cause, yes, he was actually going to try to help me out.
Each day, he got the mail, I was so proud that he was trying to solve my plight.
He said he had an idea, which he would try, the last day in town, to set it right.
Of course, I believed him, he was my son, and I felt such pride, as he drove away.
Then I waited for the surprise, he’d set with the Trolls, to make everything OK.
The postman made his rounds, as usual, until he came toward our house.
Then he shot off like a rocket, which was truly outward bound… the louse.
So I ran out to catch him, for in his hurry, he’d forgotten to drop off my mail…
But he was so fast that I missed him… so back to the house I did sail…
In front of the garage… sat 3 Trolls in bib overalls in their rocking chairs.
Across their laps lay shotguns, yes, the really heavily gauged ones…
And there before my eyes were crickets playing banjos all around…
With ‘Deliverance’, the song they’d used, to make that mailman bound…
But don’t worry; I got even with my prankster son… To end this tale…
The next time he ask for money… I said… the check is… in the mail.
1st place in the Contest: Smile Your on Candid Camera
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment