Autobiography Of A Letter Box
Sighs and tears of man I witness,
The annals of life I too share.
Voices of humanity I do clearly hear
To distant dales I always carry a dream.
Whispering tales of love I can narrate,
Whimpering tales of life I can describe.
Between the worlds of darkness and light,
I have read enough of life and script.
Near a temple in a solemn field,
I am perching in the native haunts.
Under the sprawling shades, in gentle winds,
I have seen seasons and beyond.
Umpteen hands have poured in their treasure,
To umpteen generations I was their heart and throb.
But, in the forging winds of e-mails
Footsteps continuously recede,
Only singular taps and voices remain.
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