Three Weeks From Now, You
in keeping with this gray sky I walked
to the post office with a broken step and
tossed my letters on the counter and tried
to exit just as quickly as I had come in
'there's too much snow in Denver' I heard
the man behind the old wood desk say while
glancing at my letter's destinations, 'they
won't get there until at least three weeks from
this very day' and that's how it goes, I guess
snow everywhere, snow in Anchorage, snow in
Boston, but never any snow here to pale up
this gray that's etched itself so deep into this sky
what is it my father used to say, 'chin up boy
keep that stiff upper lip, can't let the world get
to you', so I look down, count my heel steps
and kick gravel along the sidewalk back to home
maybe never go back, maybe just keep walking
towards somewhere where the sky looks a bit less
like the dust that's fallen on your picture frame
like the emptiness that invented its own color
poem by Ben Paynter
Added by Poetry Lover
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