Ah, to be a paperboy again! This dates back about 75 years ago when I was a whippersnapper. ……. Today, I may be a poet.
My ears fill with the metered hiss
Of the wound- tight newspapers
As they sail into the porches
Of my Beachmont route
Composing a riff of rhythmic thuds,
as they break the silence of the moist Kentucky morn
Now and then an impatient subscriber ventures out
To retrieve or catch the news in flight;
Their robes clutched about them
And, treating me to an occasional wave,
Each paper, a payment on my self esteem
And, a sponsor of a fresh doughnut…..
First-customer delivered , for my trip home
Along the long downhill bridle path
Recently, I visited those same spaces
Some seventy years hence, via the internet
All of those sweet little houses
That once relished fresh news
Had gone sour with the push of time;
They were smaller and ill-kept…..barely newsworthy
The old images that I had rolled up tight and savored
These many years in proud recollection,
Fell upon the ground in sorry disappointment
Failing to land anywhere intended.
I should have left them in my bag !
Some memories are like that
Yet, many others provide the balance.