Yesterday, I saw a lonely postbox, who stood in a dirty corner of a street. It seemed as if no one’s aware of it’s existence over there. It looked sad and ignored. I felt bad for it. I felt like cleaning it so that it can get its shining red and black color back. I wonder if it was stupid of me to feel like that, but, I couldn’t help.
 
I wrote this at night, imagining what it would have felt like standing over there…
 
 
I stand here in one corner,
lost and lonely,
wondering at my existence.
I stand here,
with a look so dreary.
 
I’ve turned maroon from red,
and there’s no shine
left in my black hat.
I can speak nothing
but stand and whine.
 
I wonder if
they need me anymore,
I feel claustrophobic
and I’m still waiting
for someone to open my door.
 
I feel so empty;
my window
still waits for hands,
which’ll put them in plenty
and make my tummy grow.
 
This era of emails, no doubt,
is better,
but, I’d still stand here
and wait for someone
to put in a letter!

 

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I wonder how many of us actually write letters these days. When sending messages is just a matter of a few clicks, who would take the pains to WRITE a letter, put it inside an envelope, seal it, put a stamp on it, and then put it in a postbox… and wonder when would someone come and collect it from the box and deliver it!

After looking at that postbox, I felt an urge to start WRITING letters again.. so that, at least, the postboxes can have a better life!! 🙂

 

 

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