Pictures from the mind (14)

The bicycle would be parked

Leaning against the mesh fence

Granny would mutter, mind my roses

While granddad would say

Ah the man with the sealed secrets, put the kettle on.

Everyday at noon the postman would call

He didn’t always have letters but he always had news!

The fresh loaf was cut, strong tea brewed

The postman was the only one we ever saw

Pour whiskey into his tea.

Nothing to report today he’d tell granddad

They’re all above ground

The weather is threatening rain

Hope it holds off for the next couple of hours

Everyday the conversation took the same line

We’d sit in the corner whisper the conversation to each other.

Once the tea was done he’d say

I’ll be off now John Joe once I get this head of steam up.

It never ceased to amaze us

How he held the pipe in his mouth

With just three teeth on top

And no bottom teeth.

(c) Chris Black 2017.

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