The empty bottles stood
Upon the edge of the doorstep,
A little handwritten note beneath one of them
That read: 'No milk today.'
The milkman came at his usual time
And collected the bottles in one hand,
And placed them all within a crate
Then climbed inside his float.
The blue tits had gathered in the trees
And there they waited forlornly,
For their daily meal of cream
Then flew away so far.
The milkman's note blew on the wind
Along the path to every house,
And every street upon his route
Until he came no more.
ANDREW BLAKEMORE
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/empty-bottles-2/
