It comes everyday, 6 days a week,
At the hour of 10 the mail truck drives up my street.
He brings many letters from anywhere you can think,
Filling my mail box to the point it might sink.
Letters from family, and bills not yet paid,
Mountains and mountains of piles they have made.
I'm up to my eye balls in piles of mail,
Newspaper ads, and the latest new sale.
I wish the mail man would take a break for a week,
But I look out the window and see him drive up my street.
As you can see I have been a bit lazy in opening the mail. But in my defense most of it is my brothers, they just never pick it up. It just keeps multiplying. My brother put me in charge of the mail which I think is funny. I have no idea what I am looking for. Lets just hope I don't missing anything or throw anything important away. Good thing my parents can look everything up online (right Mom haha).
Hahaha.... Mail. Mr. Silverstein does it again!
ReplyDeletethe poem is a Kaitlyn Manscill original. If you think Shel Silverstein wrote that you are incorrect. But I guess I could take that as a complement. Is it that good?
ReplyDeleteTrue? Good on you then! So turns out we have missed some Jerusalem mail. I was e-mailed today with a warning that I have missed a payment deadline and haven't turned in any needed documents! They threatened to kick me out . . . not good.
ReplyDeleteBeing in charge of the mail is a very important job! I hope Jesse makes it to Jerusalem. And I hope our million dollar check to get him (and you) here has not been thrown away.
ReplyDeleteBut the poem is very cute.
ReplyDelete