At the end of the street.
The post man never came to Greggs’s box because
Nobody ever sent him anything.
No children dared to play on his jungle-tall grass.
Not even the church-goin’ women would
Ring to give him peach preserves on Sundays.
Nobody hated Mr. Greggs,
But nobody really liked him either.
Last Sunday, a little boy with yellow hair
And cheeks dirtier than Greggs’ cracked old windows
Got spanked for stealing.
All they found was
An empty jar of peach preserves
In Greggs’ window.
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