The time is 1948, that's where your journey started,
from Belleville's little post office, is where that you departed.
You're journey was a long one, that got longer every year,
but you met each new face, without a single fear.
Your milky way a long dark road, you traveled everyday,
craters were the potholes, you dodged along your way.
The houses were the planets, each had different names, and
your stars were the mailboxes, set on tiny frames.
The moon our little town, it never does stop glowing,
and everyday thanks to you, our mailboxes are overflowing.
In you're 33 years of driving, a long 1,000,000 miles,
I'm sure that you've been greeted, with just as many smiles.
With all you're mechanical failures, you didn't once stop going,
through rain, sleet, and snow, and yes when it was snowing.
Thank you Mr. Mailman, for every single year,
for all the troubles you went through, to get from there to here.
Now you're ship has landed; you retired this 82,
But not a single person will ever forget you.
By...Debbie
This was written for a dear friend Mr. Harold Majors, on his retirement from the post office. I wrote it for him in this way because he'd drove enough miles to go to the moon. He loved it and had it framed, to hang on his wall as he said, to show it off, he really got a kick out of it. lol
