• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 12
Image by

Sending the message

One year father forgot Boy's birthday
important work locked him in his shed.

Boy would listen to the cooing bedtime words
and whispered answers. Just before the sun rose
he would open the flaps...his words flew.

Boy's special friend nested on his window sill
he morse tapped the bedroom pane when
Mission Accomplished.

He was the boy who painted tiny pictures, he liked
painting balloons best, they meant you were safe.

They made a good team, delivering painted pictures
to children everywhere. One day they reached a birthday
and made a smile.

Words flown, words thrown
Words leaping fences, housed in hands
viewed through glass
paddled through water.

They stood mini mailman on a plinth.

1