In the hopefully’s and the maybes (A Poem)

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Walking past the old mailbox

and thinking of how many times 

I’ve traversed there to collect 

the metered mail, the junk mail

the birthday cards and solicitations, 

it’s raining again today

making it feel like an old sock 

worn too thin with holes in the heel 

the sun has yet to make an appearance 

as another round of thunder peels off

into the distance like an encore far away 

yet close enough to hear…

in these solemn moments

when all is silent in the house

stepping back into it, making the door

creak shut, trying not to disturb

the slumbering home with its constant

creaks and whirrs and electric hums

brick and mortar snoring in this sleepy  

corner of the block.  

Casting one last glance outside

I imagine far different days than these

days in which we try to grasp, 

hold onto for dear life, treasure deeply

breathe in their fragrances 

yet they disappear far too soon

but the magic is never too far away

it still resounds, a myriad of choral sounds

beckoning us back to a place that will never

come.

Still we sigh, casting out our hopes and dreams

into a net of maybes and hopefully’s as I shut the door

tomorrow steps up to the front stoop

and begins its knocking.  

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