I once robbed a post-box,
& looked through letters, small & scented.
Of someone's aunt with chickenpox,
And bills handsome, from the rented.
Love letters, I had to read!
Which in boredom, my mind would feed.
Some which made my heart bleed,
An urge to send, a nervous need.
A good doctor's prescription pill,
& injections, with dread did me fill.
Thankfully illegible, so not my joy to ****.
But now, I must stop,
For reasons purely confidential.
As I catch the Postmans' beaming top,
His light bag filled only with what's essential!
A poem on a crazy idea....
