Dear Mr. Postman,
I wonder what it's like when you see the bills.
Do you feel the urge to pay them?
Or when you see college letters,
do you feel anxious to know the decision?
When we get adverts,
do you judge us?
When you see the handwritten cards,
do you also feel the sense of home?
I know you have other homes to mail,
other cubbies to fill,
but if you looked a little closer,
maybe you'll see the life of our family unfolding before your very eyes.
I forget that they switch who gets Postman for the day.
There must be a secret meeting where everyone calls dibs on which street each person gets.
I hope that you always vote to fill our street, just so you could say hi to box again.
But I can only wish for such a thing.
I want your name to always be Damian,
but the truth is it changes from Mark to Steven,
from Dana to Christine,
and from Taylor to Lennon.
Goodbye Mr. Postman,
stop by the house one day.