The Mailman

The perfectly, purple, pansies looked beyond exceptional.

I could not believe they had come from my crop and made it to the flower shop.

When I saw someone so beautiful it was crucial, that I go talk to him and make our connection special.

Now was my chance, the macho, majestic, mailman of my dreams was about to make his daily stop.

The lean, tan, mailman who I had laid eyes on.

Was more beautiful and fruitful than all the Pink of My John’s hanging on their vines.

He had big, chiseled biceps, triceps, and quadriceps that looked better than Don Jon’s.

Why couldn’t a man as fine as wine be mine?

He wasn’t mine because he was far too beautiful and fine to talk to.

God went out on a limb and took his time making him!

But I knew what I would have to do to make him my boo.

Without him my world would filled with despair and grim.

So I did what any fabulously, fearless, flower shop owner would do.

And I hid behind my bouquets of bamboo to get a better view.