April 14, 2016/May 1, 2016 The great army of postmen plodding indefatigably through snow and rain was the very web binding us all together bankers and customers sons and mothers The pregnancy of each day converged on that awaited time when the tide might turn full of anticipation I reached into the box with a Christmas hope well into the gray years Mirror of the earlier anticipation the frenzy of colours beneath the tree red was my favourite Then the careful tableau of treasures was it all there? the picture and proof the ever-grateful smile dutiful in flannel pajamas Now they’re both gone known as Mum and Dad whoever they were no more boys either not those and not these No more searching through colourful wrappings for what’s been overlooked No more sealed envelopes bearing secrets and keys Yet the tree is still there all bright and dark
Martin Ahrens 