Poor lonely mailbox is so sad these days,
Sad mailbox cries for messages of love that never come.
The night waits. Its heart is so empty and cold.
Standing, waiting in the sun, rain, snow 'til the Sun falls to the ground.
Its dull rusting beauty is a thing of the past,
Wondering where has all the gifts gone?
Crying is all I do,
Where has all the shiny paper gone?
I stood as flowers come and go.
Afraid cars would knock me over.
Fighting off squirrels from making me their home.
I cry for messages of love that never come.
Is it time for me to go? I am so old,
It's time for me to go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem