Postbox

On the road
with a crumbly note.
Thoughts on a hill,
that returned the summer in you.
Sunshine rays,
on a dusty yard;
hours' worth of dreams succumbed.

Finding a gap in a rusted green box.
My life in a minute's word
of hopeful suffer.
A squirrel stumbled, trees spiraled, the flowers quarreled.

Like melted chocolate in an oven platter,
the message finally, but foolishly, baked.
Therein a tale ended,
a warm sincere hope half-sheltered.
To find you well,
and nothing else.