When I was a child
One of my favorite smells
Was our old post office
It was lined with
Row after row of little metal mail boxes
They looked like fancy little houses
With small glass windows
You could peak inside
To see if there was any mail
And open the door with a little key
The Post Office also had
A set of steps
Leading in and out
One of my biggest thrills
Was to climb to the top of those steps
Swing open the large glass door
Feel the coolness of conditioned air
Blowing in my face and
Breathe in the spectacular aroma
Of old metal mail boxes laced with
Scents of paper
And glue from the stamps
Decades later the sight of
A small antique mailbox can bring
Those memories back to life
And fill my mind with sensations
Wafting in
Of smells from long ago
E.A. Fussell
7/31/2018
E. A. Fussell 