Royal Mail Sunday

a premature, newborn baby, the weight of a wet tea towel
draped dripping in the palm of a hand, still a little warm from that hotpot pan over there resting on a back burner hospital bed,
both of 'em careful not to slip into two like a wet paper tissue,
wrapped up and around in fragile Royal Mail bed sheets and sellotape;
first class, signed for, next day delivery on this:
two packages for the price of one.
FedEx would most certainly lose them,
DPD would never deliver them,
Translink would misplace them,
so it's down to Royal Mail to get them where they need to be,
back at home, afternoon nap by 3.