The Postcard
This is where you wait. I can see that much hasn’t changed. Waiting requires patience, as I am sure you know by now. You have been here for a while, I can tell by the colour of the paper. Good things are worth waiting for, you have been told, but you are beginning to wonder. You step off the pavement to leave, but your eyes are still on the street. The street has changed a lot, only the monument is the same. We call it The Horse. I am sure your name was more dignified. Yours were dignified times. You had real horses back then, which was nice. I wonder why the street is so empty and quiet. The police are there, maybe they are waiting for something to happen too. The man on the horse is showing us the right direction to go, but you can keep waiting if you wish. Everyone is allowed to wait as long as they want, that much is still true. You cast a very long shadow. The stamp on the margin claims that this is the exclusive right of someone named Wilhelm Goerka. I have decided that you are Wilhelm Goerka, I am just still confused about the meaning of this.
GloPoWriMo Day 28 - a vintage postcard
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