The Tip

by

Phil Pochurek

I have seen many sunrises
From behind a pair of handle bars
Over the top of a newspaper bag,
It was my favorite part of the job.
What a paradox.
I loved what I was doing
But hated what I did.
For me the journey held a far greater value
Than the end result.
I loved the morning.
The fresh air and the deer,
They knew what I meant.
I reveled in the calm
Of everyone’s sleep
While I delivered the world to their doorsteps.
I felt selfish sometimes getting paid
For the fun I had and
Keeping it all to myself
In the quiet before the dawn.
Sometimes it was work
But most of the time I did it
For the love of the ride.
I only wish the news could have been better.
There was a war over seas that nobody wanted
And everybody watched on the evening news
Across their dinner tables,
Like a bad movie that never ended.
Momentarily interrupted by a walk on the moon.
Too bad our highest evolutionary achievement to date
Had to be tarnished by our terminal quest for
Peace and freedom for the world in the name of democracy.
We reached for the heavens
With stars in our eyes and blood on our hands,
While our feet stood fast
In the mire of our past indiscretions.
It was all there day after day
The accomplishments, the defeats,
The miracles, and the disasters.
Life and death flew from my bag
To their doorsteps, and I was their messenger.
Like Mercury I flew up the hills
And over the streets going door to door.
Silently delivering the news from the night before.
On target, on time, on their doorsteps
All before the sun came up.
All before that first cup of coffee
Would jump start their day,
And the paper would bring them up to the moment.
This money isn’t for the paper
I don’t read it, I do the crossword.
This money is for you.
Your ambition, your motivation,
Your initiative to want to begin to
Take responsibility for your life.
And I salute you for doing it well.
Day after day on time, on target.
The show starts here
And you’re at the head of the line
Thank you for a job well done.
Keep up the good work and you’ll do fine
This tip is just a reminder, son.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Sonnet: Time Is Most Precious
by: Dr. John Celes
from: Coimbatore, Tamilnadu, India

To visit all of Phil Pochurek's poems, click HERE

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