My name,
every Christmas appears -
the same
I've had for 30 years
-
I affix a return label
so postal workers, and you, are able
to see my name and how it's spelled
and year after year I am compelled
to write my name bigger and bolder,
instead, I let my anger smolder
-
People don't like it when you spell their name wrong
and mine is only two syllables long
-
I'll take a deep breath, and slowly exhale
next time I send you a card in the mail
in hopes that you will finally see
your carelessness has insulted me
YOU ARE READING
Park Bench Poetry
PoetryTake a leisurely stroll through the park, sit on a bench facing the pond, and watch the ducks frolicking around the fountain. A woodpecker taps at a weeping willow, and a great blue heron takes flight from a small island in the pond. In these peacef...