This is a Poem for the Post Office Girl,
Who’s is always efficient in turmoil and whirl.
At 8.45 no sooner, no less,
She opens the door to the Rich and Oppressed.
They all stand in line with Parcels so tight,
Envelopes and Cards, all Colours so bright.
‘Hello’ ‘Good Morning’ ‘Please enter your PIN’,
‘Jubilee Stamps’? a new line just in’.
Passport Photo, ‘Is that really me’?
To a Present ‘First Class’ for an Aunt in Dundee.
And before the eye all Cards do consist,
From a Birthday ‘With Joy’ to a loved one ‘Now Missed’.
Stamp after Stamp goes the well trodden sound,
As the Bureau de Change tells the fate of the Pound.
For details of Air Mail to Paris or Rome,
She will give you the Route, from departure to home.
Now ; on to the end and her busy days run,
So Verse inspiring, so ‘Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.
But; this is a Poem for the Post Office Girl,
Who is always efficient in turmoil and whirl.
But what is more important than the lines set above,
Is unknown to herself- she’s the Girl that I Love.