In love. 
Each day awaiting a letter. 
Heart beating, lashes lowered, a step to the door.
Mind spilling with expectation. 
Hand a bit shaken by hope. 
Nothing. Not today. 
Years have past.
Still running to the door. 
And there it is, the letter. 
The letter, not interesting anymore,
She understands…
It is the postman that she loves.