Poetry: Reading Philip Larkin in the queue at the Post Office
'Tis the season to stand around grumbling about the Royal Mail. I offer this in the hope in soothes your brow.
What better place to think about time and age,
choking on the clouds of other people’s rage?
Sending parcels of love with maximum fuss;
at least they escape from here, unlike us.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home