The Signature / Bye Bye Basildon Bond

As you mostly know, my mind moves in mysterious muddles and as soon as I saw the prompt it shot to cowboys and caverns for some weird reason so had to stick with my first notion! I also enjoyed a nonsense one, too!  As I've written two poems, I do not mind having just the one read!

                The Signature
             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 
Communication was filtering
As patience's breath now pollutes
Running amok when the mailman appeared
Hardly worth the dust kicked from his boots

Everyone told me to hang up
Those notions of him coming back
A wanderer loves you or leaves you for dead
When there's few things for him to unpack

A maiden in gingham in each town?
While he sails you on letters of love
If the minutes and hours told their secret 
What would they be admitting of?

Only, time cannot heal the emotion
Or soothe the wounds as they occur
Time to put to rest those bullet-light memories
And the spark that kicked up from his spurs

Sunsets and sabotaged heartbeats
Deeper horseshoe prints at night
When the pretty go hunting the pretty
Setting damnation alight

A chicken-scratched note on brown paper
All spit stained and cheap cowboy scrawl
How can she ever forget him, when
There's still bits of him pinned to the wall!
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This poem was written in honour of the little Post Office that was needed no more. I remember the postmaster, Jack, was saddened at it's planned closure but it was true that electronics and the modern world were mostly to blame for it's demise!   It was more than 10 years ago now but, Jack - this one's for you!!

                 Bye Bye, Basildon Bond
                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Went to post me a letter just last week -
the road there I stumbled across
I couldn't believe when I heard it!
Wouldn't know how to manage my loss......

Our little post office in Stepp Street
was saying goodbye to the world
He'd been finished off, shut out, neglected,
no more posters for them to unfurl

Said the art of us all corresponding,
all we pen-pals and chitchats of yore
Were being replaced due to 'email'
pen and paper considered a bore!


The selling of stamps greatly dwindled, 
no more licking and sticking in place
Making sure that the stamp's fixed securely 
by a bop on her Majesty's face!

Well, my nerves and my temper erupted,
I demanded to speak to the chief!
Of the Royal Mail's mighty allegiance,
but my phone call was curt and so brief 

He told me, to hurry my complaint,
I could email him straight there and then
What I next thought was wholly unlike me,
but I'd shove up the whole of the pen!

I'm just an old gal, with old values
never cheated on lead or on ink
But I guess I'll now try best of both worlds
What harm is it to interlink?!
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