WRONG ADDRESS
Was it a century or only a year ago
I tossed the first note over the hedge?
Afraid my fiery letters might consume
themselves before reaching their destination
(mail delivery being what it is today)
I wrote another and another.
Recently I wrote fewer
because the hedge grew higher,
my pitching arm weaker
and passion seemed less important than sleep.
One day a rose appeared full bloom
on the prickly hedge.
Next the hedge parted!
I heard quick footsteps.
Starting up with outspread arms,
I encountered a liveried man
who thrust a bundle in my arms.
My letters - each stamped
UNKNOWN AT THIS ADDRESS.
This in spite of constancy.
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