Ian Keenan


His Postman - Poem by Ian Keenan

He liked me, my boss,
As looks counted
In those days,
And I was handsome then.

But I was fairly
Messed up,
Emotionally dead,
My sociable persona
Carrying the day.

So good old Gavin,
Down in Kent,
Smoking like a chimney,
Wanted just the good news,
So I became his postman,

My smile-a-day
Keeping his woes
At bay.

Topic(s) of this poem: poem


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 30, 2016

Poem Edited: Saturday, January 30, 2016


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