Something lighthearted and silly, for a lazy Sunday.
When I was little, I saw nothing odd in the way my family worked. There was nothing odd in my mother’s mood swings and how it concerned me on a personal level when she was angry or upset. There was nothing strange about my father, who at first used to sing us songs and read us bedtime stories, but with time become more engrossed in his computer and spending most of his free time at home as a solid back in a computer chair, the clacking of computer keys filling the sun-kissed air.
Another highly personal poem, on a topic I’ve touched upon before.
Good morning, world. Here’s a poem I wrote to serve as a form of reminder to myself of how my mind works.
“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”
These words, a translation from ancient Greek describing the Persian courier service c. 500 BC, are inscribed on the James Farley Post Office in New York City. Through the years these words, in whatever form you remember them by, has in many minds become associated with the US Postal Service itself, though the words originally had no relation to them.
Twins are often thought of as something special, that they always have this special connection that excludes all others. Something almost magical.