The White Van

Long ago 

My disappointment began

It started with 

The icecream man

Dollar in hand 

I ran and ran

To stop I think 

Never was his plan

Satan himself must have been 

The driver of that van 

He enjoyed the sight 

And would contrive

To watch the anguished faces 

He deprived

His eyes on the rear view mirror—

He’d drive

Me chasing yelling waving 

A dollar or a five 

On occasion he’d slow a bit 

To keep my hopes alive 

That van these days has morphed 

Into another I’ve decided

Now it’s not an ice cream truck 

For which I get excited 

A flower shop van almost daily 

Can be sighted

Flowers in hand I watch the driver- 

Once he has alighted 

I wait by my door curious as to how 

This time I will be slighted

These flowers you see 

Are not for me 

It is one or other of my daughters 

For whom they’ve been provided

By a white van I have once again 

Been blighted

This van will morph once more

At that time when it is sighted

It will take me away

Driver wearing a lab coat 

Which has been whited


The Daily Post, November 10, 2015, Daily Prompt: Secret Admirers~You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you?<a href=””>Secret Admirers</a>

2 thoughts on “The White Van

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