Air Mail
Postmaster, here’s another dime.
Please get my package off in time,
and tell my Bobby, ‘Yes, I’ll wait!
With hugs and kisses.
Love you, Kate.”
This faster service, this ‘air mail’
I hope will, in the end, prevail.
Five cents is worth it. (I’d pay eight.)
With hugs and kisses.
Love you, Kate.”
Dear Bobby, here’s your 'Miss You' box
with goodies like some hand-knit socks.
I’ll gladly pay the extra rate.
With hugs and kisses.
Love you, Kate.”
And so, I’ll wait for your reply
that comes when e’er the mail planes fly
and bring their cargo – precious freight!
With hugs and kisses.
Love you, Kate.”
###
The Swingin’ Stews
of 1965
I dream of flying in a plane
to London, Paris or to Spain.
The stews in flight quite happily,
will offer, “Coffee, tea or me?”
The year is sixty-five and I’m
a handsome fella in my prime.
Those swingin’ stews, I guarantee,
will offer, “Coffee, tea or me?”
Up in the clouds, I will applaud
the safety demo. I’ll
act awed.
I know this trick will work.
You’ll see.
They’ll offer, “Coffee, tea or me?”
Perhaps one stew will be ‘the one.’
A guy can dream ‘cause it’s in fun.
But so you know, my choice ain’t tea,
when she says, “Coffee, tea or me?”
###
Notes: Sepia Saturday provided the prompt of 'flight.' So...I looked for some vintage (or vintage-ish) pictures from which I could make a couple of narratives which might reflect the mores and attitudes of the times.
What's odd about me writing for this theme is that I hate to fly! Yes, I do fly - because it's the most expedient way to get to a destination that's way far from home, but the strange thing is that I fly to places with my husband, who has his private pilot's license - because I encouraged him and gave him his first lesson as a gift.
And also, when I was younger, I actually considered a career as a flight attendant ('though not a 'swingin' stew.')